The Hardest Riddle
by Wheezy1
Summary: Harry acquires the ability to travel dimensions, gathering training and skills so he can eventually defeat Voldemort. Independent Harry, Manipulative Dumbledore, eventual HPGW. No slash.
1. After The Veil

_Hello again after a long break! I've been working on this story with the help of OrionTheHunter In all honesty I can say he's co-written it as his input and work goes far beyond the call of the Beta. I'm thrilled to say he will be writing additional chapters/universes on his own. _

_Typically I like to write a story in full, then post it, tweaking it in from reader's reviews, which makes for fast chapter posting. In this case I've had to struggle in places with writers block, and work out smooth transitions with OrionTheHunter. So this is a WIP, and I will update as frequently as possible._

_This story is child-friendly when it comes to swearing, but it is violent in places. I do not go into gory detail, but a parent might want to look it over before allowing their child to read it. There will be subtle allusions to intimacy later on in the story, but I feel confident in giving this a T rating. JK Rowling started the Harry Potter series as a story for older children, and I prefer to keep it that way._

'_The Hardest Riddle' is an alternate universe Harry story. It takes place after the 5__th__ year when Harry realizes he's being used and starts a career of hopping from world to world, helping various Harry Potters defeat their Voldemorts. This story is basically a sneaky way of being able to write a ton of alternate universe Harrys in short, easy-to-digest bites. No slash._

_Needless to say, Harry Potter belongs to Ms. Rowling, and we are only borrowing the characters for a bit. _

**The Hardest Riddle**

**Chapter One - After the Veil**

The tall, eerily snake-like figure of Lord Voldemort sat on his throne. Below the dais cringed his servant, a disgusting excuse for a wizard named Peter Pettigrew appropriately nicknamed 'Wormtail' because of his rat animagus. Wormtail was waiting for a command or punishment (or both, as was usually the case) from the Dark Lord, and had no desire to interrupt his master's pondering, thereby hastening the inevitable pain.

Voldemort frowned, deep in thought. He was aware of Wormtail's presence and fully cognizant of the man's nervousness – he just didn't care. His thoughts were centered on Harry Potter and the events at the Ministry of Magic last month. Voldemort had recovered from the injuries that Dumbledore had inflicted on him, but the pain and inconvenience had been worth it. He now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Potter's weakness. He smiled an oily, evil smile.

Potter. How he wished he could kill that boy and have him out of his life. The child was living, breathing proof that some people possessed too much luck. He was _Felix Felicis_ on two feet – all the times Potter had foiled his plans proved that. But death was not an option – the curse scar and subsequent link between the two of them forged a bond that could not be tampered with. If Potter died, he died. If Potter's magic was removed, his would be as well.

The boy had power – that was certain. Voldemort, for the life of him, could not understand why Dumbledore did not train the child. Oh, it would be years before Potter would be any real threat or challenge, but each year the fool for the light put off the boy's real training, was another year to gather strength and forces of his own. To make it all the more strange Voldemort was certain he could sense blocks placed on the boy's magical core. Few were capable of that level of magic – it was probably Dumbledore who did it. But why?

If anything Dumbledore appeared to be helping the Dark by keeping the boy weak, untrained, and clueless. The Ministry and Daily Prophet gave Potter no reason to love the light – by their actions they were driving him away from the magical world. Leaving the boy with abusive relatives was not forging any kind of faith or trust for the wizards who were supposed to be looking out for him. Voldemort could easily find the Dursleys – he did know how to use a muggle phone book after all. But keeping them alive meant keeping Potter abused and resentful. An abused and resentful Potter would end up hating Dumbledore if he didn't already.

If not for the unfortunate killing of the boy's parents 15 years ago, it would be easy to entice him over as an ally. Who knows how powerful the child truly was under the blocks binding his magic. But the muggle-loving Potters were dead and their offspring was unmoving in his blame – an alliance seemed out of the question.

He drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne and narrowed his blood-red eyes. He had the ability to rip open a portal to another dimension and force the brat through. Dimension hopping was a talent of his, and he was quite good at it. Another dimension would have to deal with Potter (or even two Harry Potters at that point), and it was possible the boy would defeat his counterpart in the new dimension, which wasn't a concern of his. But casting the spells and performing the rituals left one weak and vulnerable – while performing the magic necessary Dumbledore could possibly defeat him, or even Potter himself, seeing how his luck seemed to run.

No – Potter had revealed his great weakness – it was his insane trust and love for his Godfather Sirius Black and his friends. It was too easy to lure the boy to the Ministry with the vision of Black in danger. A sane, clear thinking wizard would have checked before rushing in, and Potter had not. Dumbledore had obviously succeeded in isolating the boy from adults he could trust – the boy came with other children for assistance, leaving Dumbledore to scramble and catch up. It would be easy to lure Potter back again, and this time push _him_ through the veil as well. That way Potter would be permanently placed in another dimension, their link would be severed and safe, and this world would be free for the taking.

Voldemort smiled. This was going to be easy.

Harry woke with a gasp, green eyes wide, sweat dripping down his face. With supreme effort he calmed his breathing, and prayed silently that he had not woken his aunt and uncle. The house remained quiet and he lay back down in the bed gazing at the reflections from the street lamps on the ceiling of the small dingy bedroom.

It was a vision that woke him. In it he was back at the Ministry, gazing at the veil. A hand was reaching out and a voice pleading with him, begging for his help to come back. The voice belonged to his Godfather, Sirius Black. But was it a vision of current events, a glimpse of the future, or a trap from Voldemort?

Tears dripped down his cheeks. This was the only time he was allowed to grieve – his 'loving' relatives kept him slaving away and beaten down during the daylight hours. Hermione had tired to warn him that the Ministry was a trap, but he rushed in and the loss of his godfather was the result. No matter what anyone said, it was his fault.

Harry had begged the headmaster to let him study advanced dueling for the next time, but Dumbledore merely twisted the conversation around and declined. He begged for a better teacher in occlumency to prevent Voldemort's deceit from happening again. Dumbledore chastised him for not trying hard enough with Snape, who wasn't trying very hard himself. He begged for a summer away from the beatings of his aunt, uncle and cousin. Dumbledore twinkled his blue eyes and told Harry it couldn't possibly be as bad as all that.

So here he lay in Privet Drive, bruised ribs, welts on his back and sunburn on his neck and arms – heart broken, hopeless, and oh-so-lonely. If only his friends would write, but in three weeks he hadn't received one letter. It was likely the letters were being intercepted, like they had the summer of his second year, but insecurity was getting the better of him. The tears slowed and he drifted back to sleep, still not sure of the nature of the vision that had awakened him.


	2. Something is Rotten

**Chapter Two - Something is rotten…**

The visions returned every night – six nights in a row since the first. There was no headache or burning from his scar, no feeling of dread. There was, however, crushing guilt every time Harry heard Sirius' begging for help. Harry didn't want to ask Dumbledore's opinion – the man would be of no help he was sure. He'd pat him on the head and offer him a lemon drop. But tired of not knowing, Harry wrote him and asked for his vault key so he could order some books from Flourish & Blott's. He didn't say what kind of books, but felt that there had to be something on visions and occlumency. The Boy-Who-Lived was not happy with the reply.

_My Dear Harry,_

_Although I'm pleased no end that you have finished your school work already, you know how dangerous it would be to receive packages and letters at your aunt's home. It would be all too easy for Voldemort to find your location. I am upset at having to answer this letter as it is. I have told Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to refrain from contacting you for any reason. Any research or reading you desire to do will have to wait for the Hogwarts library next school year. _

_Behave and stay within the wards so you do not endanger anyone else._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry crumpled the parchment with disgust and lobbed it across the room. He glanced out his window and noticed Remus standing guard by the front garden. He raced down the stairs as quietly as possible and ran out the door.

"Remus! I need to talk to you!" he called over to his former Defense Professor. The werewolf turned and frowned slightly, putting a finger to his lips.

"Harry – you mustn't call attention to us! You know better than that!" The man's golden eyes glanced over his former friend's son, taking in the lad's hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Fists clenched, Harry glared and shook his head. "No – I'm not all right. Dumbledore has forbidden me all mail and correspondence. I'm not allowed to go shopping. I'm not allowed out of my house. I'm having visions every night of Sirius calling for help, and I have no one I can talk to." He stood defiantly, a look of fury on his young face.

With a sigh Remus motioned Harry to follow him to the park close by. They sat on a bench as the gentle older man dried a tear and worked up the courage to speak. "I know it's hard, Harry. I miss Sirius too – very much. But Dumbledore has years of experience in fighting the dark over any of us – we have to trust that what he is doing is correct."

"Why?" Harry gave him a penetrating look. Remus' eyes widened slightly as he picked up the faint scent of blood. Obviously the Dursleys had been beating the young man despite their warnings.

"I'll talk to the headmaster as soon as I'm off duty" Remus promised, patting Harry on the arm. "I don't understand why he is being so extreme in keeping you isolated. I was given the impression you didn't want to be bothered and wanted space for grieving. Obviously that is not so." He stood and gave Harry an apologetic look. "I really must get you back to your home now – I'll get back with you tomorrow."

Harry allowed himself to be ushered back to the Dursleys. Rage bubbled underneath a thin veneer of control. As he had suspected, Moony was firmly under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore and would do nothing to go against the headmaster's manipulations and orders. Just looking at the werewolf's face Harry knew he was too broken and hurt to be of much help – the werewolf was barely dealing with his own grief as it was.

It took everything in the young wizard not to slam the door behind him. Glancing around, Harry was pleased to see the Dursleys were obviously gone, though he did not know for where or for how long. Grabbing his wallet he pulled out a scrap of paper with a phone number on it – perhaps Hermione would be of some help.

_Hello…._

_**Hi Hermione – it's me Harry!**_

_Harry! What are you doing calling? The Headmaster said you were not to be bothered!_

_**Well, you aren't bothering me – I called you. I need some advice.**_

_Ummm, Harry – we really shouldn't be talking. Professor Dumbledore was quite firm about no contact. He said it was dangerous to both you and us._

_**Hermione, please listen. I really need to talk to you!**_

_Harry please – I can't talk to you. I'm not allowed. I'll see you in a month._

_**click**_

Harry gaped at the phone in his hands, frozen in shock. Hermione just hung up on him! Couldn't she hear the desperation in his voice? It was hard enough to call for help, and then she just blows him off? What was going on with her?

He found his cheeks flushing with anger, shame and frustration. Slamming the phone down, he stormed up the stairs to his room to try and figure Dumbledore and his friends out. He fell heavily on his bed, face down to avoid the fresh wounds on his back. He ranted and raved silently to himself about Hermione, then Ron, then Remus, and then Dumbledore for a good long while.

Ron. He was another subject entirely. For a best mate he really was a pain in the butt. Jealous to a ridiculous extreme, Harry was quite frankly sick of having to tip toe around his friend's fragile ego all the time. Oh, Harry was having more than a normal truck-load of guilt over his friend's injuries at the Ministry, but he had begged them not to come. Now the guilt was replaced with suspicion. Why did they feel they _had_ to go with him – were they that devoted to a friend, or were they keeping tabs on him? Harry really wished he could talk with them and feel them out.

Then his thoughts drifted to Ginny, as they had quite often since the fiasco at the Ministry. The skinny little girl who would stare at him with huge frightened eyes was gone. In her place was a petite yet shapely lady, with a spirit as fiery as her hair. She had been a 'Boy-Who-Lived groupie', but now she was also a fierce dueler and even fiercer in her devotion to her friends. Harry didn't know when he stopped seeing her as 'Ron's kid sister' and started seeing her as 'potential date', but for the most part that _was_ how he now saw her. But another part of his mind and heart felt that Ginny was a bit too enraptured with what Witch Weekly had to say about Harry's fame and bank vaults. He wondered what her feelings for him truly were.

------------------------

Remus, Snape, Molly Weasley and Dumbledore sat in the headmaster's office. Albus was contentedly sucking on lemon drops as the three adults sitting across from him sipped tea and waited for the impromptu meeting to begin. "So Remus, what is on your mind?" the ancient asked with the signature twinkle in his eye.

The werewolf cleared his throat and looked down. "I don't mean to be argumentative, but you told me Harry needed to be alone to deal with his grief." He noticed that Molly was nodding in agreement as he continued. "Well – that's just not true. I spoke with Harry today and he's frantic. He's having visions or dreams, and he can't tell if they are true or not. He's lonely, he's bored, and I know for a fact the Dursleys are beating him."

Snape curled his lip in a sneer. "So the golden boy doesn't like not being waited on hand and foot? Can't take an occasional spanking?"

Remus shook his head emphatically. "No, Severus. I'm not talking about spankings here. Harry didn't say a thing, but I could smell the blood on him. He sat straight on the bench and would not lean back once – his back had been whipped or worse."

Molly gasped and covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. "We have to get him out of there Albus! But where? He's dangerous to all of us being wanted by You-Know-Who. I can't have him near my family!"

Dumbledore twinkled and smiled. He pulled his grandfatherly act and soothed the mother and werewolf. He made empty promises, patted heads and handed out lemon drops. He prompted the two through his floo before they had even realized nothing had been accomplished.

The headmaster leaned back in his seat and watched his potion's professor with a shrewd eye. The dour man never showed emotion unless completely caught off guard – a trait that Albus appreciated. "So, Severus, what do you think?"

Severus raised his onyx eyes to the headmaster and drummed his fingers unconsciously on his knee. With a shrug he confessed, "I'm confused – why are you leaving Potter where he is at? I had understood that the blood wards only work with love – his relatives obviously have no love for the boy."

Dumbledore smiled, but it was not warm or comforting. It was frankly chilling, and Snape shivered, despite himself. "You are right, of course. There is no more protection at Privet Drive than at any other warded location."

"You want him dead?" Snape kept his stoic expression, but was screaming inside, frantically re-enforcing mental shields like never before.

The supreme mugwump continued to smile. "Want, Severus? No, in a perfect world I would not want him to die. But we need Harry to die." He idly popped another lemon drop in his mouth and sucked on it with an expression that seemed to indicate they were having a casual discussion about the weather or the latest Quidditch game – not about the death of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"All right – you've got my attention," Snape snarled impatiently. "Why do you feel Potter has to die, and why are you telling me?"

Again the cold smile. "I've researched it and researched it. I've meditated and pondered. I can only come to one conclusion. Voldemort and Harry are permanently linked due to his curse scar. They cannot be separated. If Harry dies, so does Voldemort. I tell you because I don't want you to save his life any more – you have repaid your debt to James – let him go."

"So you are hoping his relatives will do the dirty deed for you? Or that you can drive him into depression enough that he will take his own life or do something rash enough that gets him killed?" Although it was posed as a question, the potions master was merely verbalizing fact.

Dumbledore did not deny any of it. "I am after all, my dear child, the leader of the light. I cannot risk 'doing the deed', as you so eloquently put it, myself, and get caught. The wizarding world would never understand.


	3. A Friend in Need

**Chapter Three - A Friend In Need**

If Albus Dumbledore thought that Snape was going to dance for joy, he would have been sorely disappointed. Always the consummate spy, the potion master kept a blank expression and accepted what Dumbledore said with no condemnation or comment. When dismissed, he retired to his quarters in the castle and poured himself a whiskey.

It was a lot to absorb. Ever since Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts, Snape had observed the headmaster sinking more and more into manipulative, and dare he think it, dark dealings. Severus was a powerful wizard in his own right, and he could sense the blockings put on Harry's magic as soon as he arrived. He never questioned the headmaster, as he had assumed the ancient would remove the blocks and teach the boy personally when he matured some. That never happened, and now the moody and morose 15 year old was still sporting the magical level of an average 11 year old. There was the occasional burst of energy, when magic would pour out of the youth despite all restrictions, but it only happened under extreme emotion and duress. It indicated that Potter was an extremely powerful wizard, or could be if given the chance.

The big question Snape pondered as he drank was what _were_ his feelings about the situation? True, he had no love for the boy. He looked too much like his hated childhood rival, and Snape was not a man to easily let go of a grudge. Even if he _had_ liked the lad, he didn't dare let the children of Death Eaters or the headmaster have any inkling he felt anything for Potter other than contempt. That was simply a matter of self-preservation.

But Severus Snape had turned spy for a reason. And the reason was simply that he didn't want to live in a world ruled by an insane and violent dictator. Was Dumbledore any better? He emptied his glass and glowered at the flames. Perhaps Potter could bring the Dark Lord's death by dying himself, but every human being deserves the dignity of choosing their destiny for themselves. With disgust Snape concluded he couldn't sit back and let Potter die.

Standing abruptly he glared at the clock on his mantle. A bit past three in the morning – the headmaster was most likely sound asleep. He swiftly gathered books, food, and a few items into his special trunk and shrunk it, placing it in one of his deep pockets. Severus was glad that he had one of the few working floos in the castle – a necessity for getting to and from Death Eater gatherings. He threw on his outer cloak and tossed in a hand-full of glittering green powder. "Diagon Alley" he called and stepped into the green flames.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Snape stood outside the Dursley residence, hidden from the moon and any prying eyes in the shadow of a carefully manicured tree. He had floo'd to Diagon Alley as it was a logical place for a Death Eater/spy to be wandering at night, in case he was being traced by the headmaster. From there it was easy to apparate over to Potter's house. Auror Tonks was obviously on duty – she had tripped twice in the few minutes since Snape's arrival. He waited for her to move up the block, stealthily crept to the front door, and swiftly unlocked it with an _Alohomora _to let himself in.

It didn't take him long to find the small, dingy insult of a bedroom the boy's family had given him. He charmed the room for quiet, woke Potter and healed his back and ribs of various injuries. The wolf was right – the boy had been enduring far more than just spankings. They sat on his bed in silence, sharing some sandwiches Snape had brought. The boy looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

The food finished, Harry looked up at his professor with curiosity. "Thank you sir. Thanks for the food, the healing, and the company. What do you want?"

"Subtle, Potter" Snape sneered. "We have a lot to discuss, and we don't want anyone to know I was here." The boy flinched a bit, but held his tongue and waited.

"You are in danger" Snape held up a hand to stop any sarcastic comments about to come out of Harry. "More than you realize, and not from the Dark Lord. Let me share a memory of last night with you – it will be like a pensieve memory without the pensieve."

Harry tensed – he certainly hated the prying and pain of occlumency – but his burning curiosity got the better of him. He nodded his agreement and bravely looked the dark-haired man in the eyes. Snape returned the gaze, waved his wand and muttered a strange spell bringing Harry into the memory of the conversation between the headmaster and Remus, Molly and Snape the previous evening.

When the memory was over Harry sat huddled up on his bed, arms around his legs rocking gently. No emotion showed on his face – just a hollow, defeated agony in his emerald eyes. Snape sighed inside – he knew danger and rejection all too well. Bringing the shrunken trunk out of his pocket, he enlarged it on the floor and gestured to it.

"Put anything you wish to keep in that. It will remind you of Moody's trunk to a degree except it contains living quarters. It is stocked with many potions you will find useful, books that the headmaster would have denied you, and food for several weeks. There is also a good amount of cash in there – both muggle and wizard."

In a daze Harry pried up the floorboard under his bed and retrieved his invisibility cloak, wand, and photo album. He threw some clothing into the open trunk without looking and with a gesture Snape shrunk it back again. The boy rubbed his scar in bewilderment.

"I will make sure the Dark Lord learns about your connection – it should get him to back off at least" Snape spoke as gently as he was capable. "I can take you to Diagon Alley – I booked a room for the day under my name. Tomorrow you can leave when it gets dark."

"Leave for where?" Harry asked, feeling the start of panic. "Where do you think I should go?"

"I don't know and I don't want to know" Snape snarled. "I have two very powerful wizards who would love to pry that kind of information out of my head. If I were you, I'd leave the country and never come back. Leave this war to the people who started it – they should never have put that kind of burden on a mere boy."

"Why are you helping me?" Harry had settled his surging emotions and puzzled over the fact the one person giving him any real assistance was a man whom he thought hated him.

Snape looked down at the floor for the briefest moment, showing a rare flash of emotion. "I received the dark mark after graduation against my will. I turned spy immediately to make some use of the lack of freedom thrust upon me. A child should never be left without choice. I find myself not knowing who is the greater evil – the Dark Lord or the Headmaster. I wish to give you the choice I was never given. I am truly sorry about the occlumency lessons – the Headmaster had ordered that I not teach you properly – he wanted to keep a link open between you and the Dark Lord in case I was discovered and the Order lost its spy."

Harry grasped the potion teacher's arm and hand in a firm gesture. "Thank you. Please take care of my owl Hedwig for me – I told her to stay at Hogwarts yesterday. Any life debt you felt you had to my father is paid in full you realize. I now owe you one." Magic swirled, sealing the bond and Snape gaped at the boy.

"That wasn't necessary" he muttered, but without the usual hostility. "Are you ready?"

The two silent men tiptoed out of the unwelcoming house and apparated off into the remainder of the night.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry had spent two days at The Leaky Cauldron, never leaving his room and having meals delivered by house elf. As far as the barkeep Tom knew, it was Severus Snape holed up in the private quarters, and Tom knew better than to pry into a client's affairs.

Now Hermione and the Weasley's silence made sense to Harry – Dumbledore had obviously commanded them or forced them to not speak to him after the Ministry battle. But Mrs. Weasley – his so-called adoptive mum – that really hurt him. He had thought they were his 'true family', but from Snape's memory it was obviously not so. She had distanced them for their own safety and didn't have the backbone to let him know.

The Boy-Who-Wished-To-Keep-Living enlarged the trunk Snape gave him and glanced in. Inside there were stairs leading down to a door, with the belongings he had tossed in that fateful night piled at the bottom. With a shrug Harry stepped in and crept down, opened the door and moved the clothes and precious photo album inside. As he shut the door behind, he noticed the light above dimming. Experimenting, he found that shutting the door also closed the lid of the trunk.

The potion master had been generous – although it had the appearance of an old battered school trunk on the outside, it was far, far more. He looked around impressed – the room was a modest-sized parlor/kitchen combination, with dark stone walls and flickering torches, and even a fireplace. There was a large rough wooden table and two chairs, and a note for him resting on top. Harry bypassed the note for the moment to explore a bit. Off of the parlor was a small library which in return had a bathroom and two bedrooms off of it. One bedroom had a Hogwarts four-poster bed and simple wardrobe, and the other was set up as a potions lab. It was overall very dark and gloomy, but it certainly was safe and secure.

It wasn't all that Snape had been generous with - healing and pain potions, books on dark arts, occlumency, defense and more, preserved food for weeks, and even survival equipment were stored in the trunk. The trunk home was probably a resource the spy kept for personal emergencies – the life of a double agent was dangerous and a spy would need a way to assume a new life in a hurry. But the books and a couple of other specific gifts were certainly added for Harry's benefit. The note contained information on how to change the 'ownership' of the trunk so only he could open it, and what to do with the various special items left out on the table.

The first of these objects to catch his eye was a strangely engraved wand box. Reading the parchment wrapped around it, Harry was ecstatic to learn it was a tracking charm removal box. In went his holly and phoenix feather wand, and out came a new, clean, untraceable wand. Now both the ministry and Dumbledore would not know when he used it – for all practical purposes he was now a magical adult.

The next item that Snape had added really shocked him. A small potion vial with glowing blue liquid had a scrap of parchment tied to it. The writing was cramped and hurried:

_Potter – drink this as soon as you read this. It will remove the blocks the headmaster placed on your magical core. You will find a dramatic increase in your ability and power – use magic cautiously for a while until you get use to it._

_S-_

Harry frowned darkly. Dumbledore – the great leader of the light. The headmaster of the safest place in Britain. Leader of the Wizengamot. What would the public think of their icon of justice if they knew he had evidently bound the magic of their prophesized hero, and ordered his death?

He uncorked the vial and slammed it down the back of his throat. He could feel warmth and burning in his veins, centering on his chest, and chose to go to the bedroom and lie down. It was an interesting sensation – like a gentle purging fire in his being, not painful or even uncomfortable. When the sensation passed he sat and picked up his wand. It was time to see if there was an obvious difference.

"_Wingardium Leviosa"_ Harry spoke casually and gestured at the pillow on his bed. Mouth hanging open, he watched in shock as it shot like a rocket to the ceiling and exploded in a cloud of feathers. He hadn't put any effort into the spell at all. OK – his magic _had_ been blocked. Just how powerful was he?

He lay back down on the bed after hastily repairing the pillow. What to do now? He needed a place to stay and wished to keep training. He wanted to live – at least he thought he did. But now the adrenaline from his escape had dissipated, he was left swimming in depression and hopelessness. All his friends had abandoned him. His headmaster and the order wanted him dead. Dying right now would kill Voldemort. The magical world wanted him to kill Voldemort without training or ability despite the fact they continued to air his personal life (fact and fiction) for the entire world to see. Remus, a man he thought could have been a parental figure in his life, was a stooge. Sirius, the one man he could trust, was dead. Or was he? The visions came back to him – he looked through the books Snape had given him looking for something on dreams and visions but came up empty.

Halfheartedly Harry picked up a book on occlumency and left the trunk. If he could learn to block his mind he could at least determine if these dreams of Sirius trying to escape the veil were true visions or from Voldemort. But after a few pages of the dry manual, he found himself drifting off to sleep, letting his depression get the better of him.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself back at the Ministry, standing before the veil. Sirius' hand was reaching out, and Harry could see the sheen of sweat clinging to the hairs on the arm as it trembled, grasping and groping for human assistance.

"_Harry! I can see you! Please help me! Get me out of here! I don't know how much more I can take, Harry."_

Harry clenched his eyes shut, and held his hands over his ears. "Sirius – I don't know what to believe anymore" he sobbed, as he violently wished for the vision to end.

He woke up curled fetal position on the bed in The Leaky Cauldron. It was one in the morning, but he knew sleep was done for that night. Sitting up, Harry held his head in his hands and cried. Where could he turn? Sirius' voice was louder and more convincing each night. He had nothing left here but a very nifty trunk.

Swiftly Harry packed and shrunk the trunk, then slipped it into a pocket of his robe. He cast a glamour charm on his hair to change the color to brown, left the room and settled his tab with the night help at the desk. With a determined stride he left the pub and entered the night life of Diagon Alley.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He stood in front of the veil, examining it inch by inch and listening for Sirius' voice. It was most likely a trap, but Harry was beyond fear or even feeling. It has been easy enough to sneak back down to the veil using his invisibility cloak. The lack of tracking charms on his wand made the security of the Ministry of Magic laughable. So what was next? If it was a trap, Voldemort would probably be arriving soon. If he killed him, that was fine – the agony would be over with and if Dumbledore was correct, Voldemort would die too and the people whom he once loved would be safe.

"Niccccce of you to join me, Harry Potter" the cold voice hissed in back of him.

Harry turned and looked at Voldemort. "So it was a trap" he stated, voice flat and uncaring. Green eyes met cold red eyes and winced as his scar exploded in pain.

Voldemort was surprised at the boy's lack of reaction. "Are you not afraid?" he mused, shielding his mind to ease the pain Harry's scar gave him. "I assume you have learned I can not kill you but Dumbledore wishes to?"

The boy shrugged. "Yeah – I know." He turned back to the veil and reached a hand toward it with longing. "I just want this whole mess over with. I don't want my friends to die, but I don't even know if I have friends any more. I just want a normal life."

Voldemort crossed his arms. He had expected pride and rebellion from Potter – not a child whose fire had gone out and was already dead. "You could join me" he tentatively suggested.

Harry gave a dry laugh. "No – I haven't given up that much, Tom. You are the reason my life has been so 'wonderful'. You have succeeded in destroying so many lives, like mine. I really don't understand what your grief with muggles anyway – you are a half-blood just like me. I can't agree with anything you do."

"I figured assss much" Voldemort nodded, ignoring Harry's question. "I underssstand your potion professsssor has given you money to lasssst a couple weekssss. I can not rissssk you sssstaying here and eventually dying or desssstroying me. I can not protect you if you will not follow me. I can open the veil for you like I did for your Godfather."

"What is the veil?" Harry asked; hope coloring his voice for the first time in weeks. "Will I be with Sirius again?"

The Dark Lord shook his head. "The veil issss a portal to other dimensionssss. Few can activate it – I have the ability. I have no way, however, of choossssing which reality you would arrive in. Many dimensssionsss in time and ssspace are coexissssting – most appear to be on ssssimilar timelinesss to ourssss. Each hasss ssssubtle differencessss." He paused and gestured to the strangely floating gauzy curtain. "I could not tell if you would land in a world where I won, or Dumbledore. Or if it wasssss a darker version of thisssss world, or a lighter. All I could ssssay is that our connection would be ssssevered – we would finally be independent of each other, and you could not return. Chancesss of landing in the ssssame world assss your Godfather are sssslim."

"Would I change once I entered a new world?" Harry barely looked at Voldemort now, his attention firmly fixed on the veil.

"No – you would keep all your abilitiesssss and memoriesssss. There would most likely be two Harry Potterssss once you arrived. You could take the money Sssssnape gave you and go anywhere you wissshh." Voldemort watched the boy with fascination. He had really expected tears and anger and some pretense of a duel. If he possessed feelings, he would have felt pity for the broken young man standing before him.

"OK – what do I do?" Harry patted his robes to make sure his wand and shrunken trunk were still on him.

"I do regret some of thissss" Voldemort mused briefly. "You could have been a powerful ally, Harry Potter." He waved his wand around the veil and a cold wind whipped the translucent curtain into a frenzy. "Sssstep through, Harry Potter. Your new world awaitsssss."

Without a backwards glance Harry stepped into the world of gray and mist.


	4. Someone Needs a Spanking

**Chapter Four – Someone Needs a Spanking**

Harry opened his eyes and looked around. Voldemort was gone and he was still in the Ministry, standing in front of the veil. Had he gone through – was this a different Ministry in a new world? He supposed the wisest thing would be to put his invisibility cloak back on.

Before he could remove the trunk from his pocket, a house-elf appeared before him. Harry looked at him dully, not even reaching for his wand. The elf was small and bat-eared, with a long pointed nose like Dobby, but there the similarities ended. This elf had shrewd intelligent eyes, and was dressed in a rather tasteful suit of all things.

"Welcome, Harry Potter. Welcome to reality 45,294." The elf smiled, glancing at a wrist watch that probably did not tell the time. "I understand you are most likely confused. Would you come with me?" the elf spoke kindly, and Harry found himself nodding in agreement.

"Who are you?" He asked him with the first spark of interest.

The elf smiled and gestured. "I am Zippy – house-elf to the Potters. I will be glad to explain it all, but a safer location might be wise." The elf gestured with a snap of his fingers and the two of them appeared in a cozy room of some unknown location.

Harry gaped around him as Zippy conjured tea and settled himself into an overstuffed arm chair. The room was wood paneled and reminded Harry of any number of British manor homes. A few nondescript landscape paintings and several bookcases lined the walls, and the fireplace crackled warmly. A comfortable lawn could be seen through the lace curtains over the window on the fall wall, and the room as a whole felt lived in, safe, and secure. He gratefully accepted the hot cup – familiar comfort in an unsettling situation.

After a few minutes of easy silence, the elf cleared this throat to get Harry's attention. "I know you have plenty of questions – you always do you know."

"Er, I've done this before?" Harry raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Well, not you exactly" Zippy smiled as he spoke, "but as there are many worlds and many dimensions, there are many, many Harry Potters throughout. Yes," the house-elf continued. "I serve all Harry Potters in all universes. Are you familiar with the theory of alternate universes?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really."

"Ah – most Harry's are not. That is fine." Zippy smiled kindly and refreshed Harry's tea. "Alternate universes, other realities, parallel universes – all the same thing. It says that there are countless realities co-existing at the same time – basically the same but with minor differences." He sat back and conjured a pad and quill. "Tell me, Master Harry – did you enter willingly or were you forced through the veil?"

The boy shrugged. "Willingly" he spoke and waited for more information from the strange elf.

"Interesting" Zippy remarked as he wrote. "Have you defeated Voldemort in your world yet?"

"No" Harry winced. "He helped me through, actually. I needed to escape Dumbledore."

"Are you allied with Voldemort?" the elf interrupted with concern.

Harry shook his head vehemently. "No – never."

"Ah good – that would be a first though" he mused as he jotted in the pad.

"Can you tell me about this world?" Harry asked hopefully, starting to feel a bit nervous.

"There is someone who can do it better than I can, but let me give you a bit of background first" Zippy answered kindly. "I realize this is unsettling, but it's important for you to understand."

"Understand what?" Harry looked at him puzzled.

"Understand" Zippy continued, "that the magical world of Britain revolves around Harry Potter. With all the worlds and alternate realities, the conflict between Tom Riddle and Harry Potter is the one constant. The basic conflict never changes. No matter what the reality, you are the key figure – the hope and chance for the light. Many Harry Potters end up traveling – to escape danger, acquire training, or by accident. But they must return when they are done. Harry Potter has always been the key to ending the war."

"How many worlds are there?" Harry asked weakly. "And why am I always the unique case?"

"I don't know Master Harry – I have assisted thousands" Zippy shrugged cheerfully. "I've been doing this a very long time. I do need to see which reality you come from, however. As to 'why you', every Harry asks, and I can only say, 'just because'."

After fiddling with his watch he looked up and smiled at Harry. "You lost your Godfather Sirius Black through the veil a few weeks ago?" he asked kindly.

Harry nodded.

"Well, you are in luck," his smile widened. "Your Sirius Black is indeed in this world. I will take you to him where he can catch you up with current events. Oh my!" Zippy grinned. "Look at this!" He held a small glass globe over to Harry and gestured. "Well, I'll be. This is an honor!" He glanced over at The-Boy-Who-Lived with a reverent look on his face. "You come from world one - my original world. You are the first, most 'real' Harry. Well, most real for you and I" he mused. It could be that eventually defeating your Voldemort will set the universe back to rights for once and all."

Harry hoped Snape had left a headache potion in the trunk.

Zippy popped Harry to Grimmauld Place, where a stunned Sirius greeted them and gladly took custody of his Godson. "Well, Pup. How'd we both end up here?" Sirius asked him as he shut the front door. Harry, in reply, threw himself in the man's arms and bawled unashamedly.

"Harry, Harry – calm down!" Sirius led him to the parlor where he held the boy and hugged him, adding his own tears to the mix. "I've missed you, Pup" he whispered.

"Don't you blame me, Sirius?" Harry dried his eyes, embarrassed by the emotions. "I did kill you" he looked down with shame.

Sirius gave a familiar snort. "I don't bloody think so, Harry. First of all, I'm not dead. Second, I knew it was a trap – I went willingly. I just got too cocky with Bella. I don't blame you one bit, and you shouldn't either. Dumbledore and the order really didn't give you much guidance how to handle those situations, now did they?"

"So how's this world different?" Harry looked around the familiar parlor after a few calming sniffs. It did feel less dark and creepy than the 'real' Grimmauld Place.

His Godfather gave a bark of laughter. "Well, you are in for a shock, Pup. First off, your parents are alive here."

"Mum, Dad – alive?" Harry's heart froze with hope, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yah, but it's not exactly what you might think" Sirius muttered, glancing down in embarrassment.

"What? What's going on? Are they dark or something?" Harry grabbed Sirius' shirt in desperation.

"No, no, nothing like that" Sirius winced and patted his back reassuringly. "But you are a right bloody ponce in this world. Spoiled rotten and useless. I've really missed you, Cub."

"What?" Harry gasped weakly.

"You heard me, Pup." Sirius laughed with the sharp bark-like sound Harry had missed so dearly. "Voldemort only stunned your folks in this world. When you defeated him you became an instant celebrity and it went straight to your parent's heads. It's not the James and Lily I knew in school."

"What's Voldemort like in this world?" Harry asked weakly, trying to wrap his brain around a spoiled brat of a twin.

"A real wuss" Sirius shrugged. "He's not much of a threat at all. Tries to get purebloods to join him, but since his defeat in 1981, not many respect him. That and the fact that he's a half-blood himself got out." Sirius snickered. "He occasionally has a raid against a muggleborn family, but it's typically unsuccessful. Old Moldyshorts has to keep on the run to get away from the aurors, but he keeps coming back – he's tied to Britain it seems."

Harry shook his head as if to clear it.

"That's not all" Sirius smirked. "Nobody is afraid of his name here – no 'You-Know-Who' nonsense."

"Wow" Harry smiled weakly. "How did he return?" He gazed at his Godfather with curiosity.

"Well, the fourth year did happen – nobody expected it because it seemed like a prank your 'evil twin' would have pulled. He really is an attention whore." Sirius rolled his eyes – Harry could tell he was not very fond of the 'real' Harry in this world. "Until I showed up Dumbledore and your folks didn't believe him when he said Voldemort had been resurrected. They honestly thought he had accidentally killed Cedric and was making up a whopper to cover for it.

Sirius grinned and ruffled his hair. "Let's get some lunch, Pup. Hey Kretcher – how 'bout some chow?"

To Harry's amazement a healthy and happy looking Kretcher popped into the room and bowed. "Master Sirius, Master Harry – I'd be honored. What would you like for your meal?" Harry gaped at Sirius in disbelief.

"Shut your mouth, Pup – there are flies in here" Sirius laughed. "Kretcher is a good elf in this reality. Nice, eh?"

"Oh Kretcher – I'm so glad to meet you" Harry mumbled in a daze. "Anything you make will be fine."

They sat down in a sparkling kitchen and happily munched a couple of ploughman's while Harry continued to gaze around in shock. He looked fondly at his Godfather and asked, "So what's the plan? Can we stay?"

Sirius sighed as he popped the last pickled onion into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I don't know, Pup. I imagine that eventually Zippy will want us to return to our time and take care of Voldemort. That seems to be the cosmic glue that binds this universe of multiple dimensions together." He took a swig of butterbeer and watched his godson thoughtfully. "We can certainly take time to train and get you ready though. And I don't see why you can't take enough time to get your act together – get to know your folks and such. They might need you as much as you need them" he finished thoughtfully, and then gestured at the boy with his bottle. "So how did you end up here?"

Harry carefully shared the past few weeks with Sirius. The two of them were left shaking their heads and mourning together.

"Who knew Dumbledore was so callous and heartless," the man growled. "And I can't believe that Snivilus turned out to be the only wizard in all of Britain that was any help. Now I owe the snake."

The Boy-Who-Lived laughed – a good honest laugh for the first time in months. "I gave him my wizard's debt already, Padfoot. I truly felt I owed him."

"Ack!" Sirius moaned. "What's worse – owing Sniv a debt or seeing the ponce Harry in this world? I don't know.

"Sirius?" Harry looked around the kitchen again confused. "How did you end up here in this world? Where is the other you?"

"Dead" Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "Died in a raid a few years back and left Grimmauld Place to James and Lily. When I popped through the veil they gladly gave it back and set up a new vault for me. They had no need of a new property or the money."

"So" Sirius leaned back in his seat and smiled at Harry, "do you feel up to meeting your Mum and Dad?" Harry nodded mutely and watched as Sirius threw some floo powder in the fireplace for a chat with the Potters.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Awkward. There was no other way to describe the feeling of sitting in the ornate parlor of Potter Manor, hands in his lap, trying to speak to the two people he had longed so deeply for all his life. The small talk regarding the weather and Puddlemere United's chances in Quidditch was done, and now was the strained silence that took the place of meaningful conversation.

"So where's Harry?" Harry asked, glancing around the room and peering through the many doorways. He could not get over how huge and ostentatious Potter Manor was. He always fantasized about a sweet and homey cottage at Godric's Hollow. This was a mansion worthy of a Malfoy.

"Oh, he's planning his pre-school speech for the Ministry of Magic" James, his Dad, shrugged. "He'll be down when he's done."

Harry traded glances with Sirius. His twin wasn't more curious what he'd be like? A speech for the Ministry? No wonder the kid got good press – evidently this Harry was in Fudge's pocket.

"Would you mind if we called you Harry and keep referring to our boy as Harold, dear?" Lily asked gently. "It would keep things from getting confusing." Harry nodded his permission.

"I still can't get over your Dumbledore ignored our will and stuck you with Petunia" James shook his head. "Padfoot told us what your world was like – sounds awfully depressing and all."

"Oh, it wasn't all that bad" Harry mumbled with embarrassment. He had no doubt they would not understand, and anyway, what was the point of putting James and Lily under a guilt trip – _they_ hadn't died and left him.

"Is it true you fought and survived Voldemort four times now?" Lily asked with her gentle voice.

"Er, yah. A lot of it was luck though" Harry blushed. "How about your Harold?"

"Well, naturally he met Voldemort during the Tri-Wizard tournament" Lily stammered, eyes growing moist and shiny. "Thankfully he was able to get to the portkey and escape when untied. We are just ashamed we didn't believe him when he told us what happened."

Harry wished he could look at Sirius, but he knew his Godfather would be wearing an "I told you so" expression on his face. The great Harold Potter chose that moment to grace them with his presence. Harry felt his mouth drop in shock yet again.


	5. Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous

**Chapter Five – Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

Harold Potter. How do you describe first impressions? Harry tried not to stare, but thankfully Harold was gaping back, so it made it ok. Harold's black hair, instead of being a messy mop like his own, was carefully styled and parted at the side to show his scar to its glory. The scar – instead of red, raw and angry like Harry's had always been, was actually outlined in glowing tattoo ink so it shown with an eerie light drawing attention like a beacon. He didn't wear glasses, and his weight was actually a bit on the pudgy side. There were no toned Quidditch muscles or the wasted frame of starvation on this boy. Also missing were the hand-me-down rags. Harold Potter was dressed like a model for Witch Weekly.

The biggest shock to Harry was the attitude Harold seemed to exude. Confident, arrogant, cocky, and vain. There was no desperation or deep reckless caring about the eyes. There was no gleam of intelligence or cat-like grace. This boy was an actor – shallow, self-absorbed, and clueless about everyone around him. Harry could honestly say he didn't like him at first glance. He seemed to be a disturbing blend of the worst of Malfoy, Ron, and Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Harold darling" Lily simpered, "I'd like you to meet Harry – your other-dimensional twin". Harold extended a well-practiced handshake, and Harry returned it with a touch of trepidation. Lily's tone and attitude reminded him all too clearly of how Aunt Petunia fawned over Dudley – but then they _were_ sisters. "Why don't you take him to your suite and have a visit?"

Harold gave a friendly 'follow-me' gesture and Harry obeyed. Into the heart of Potter Mansion he trailed behind, taking in the wealth and opulence that surrounded him. This was how he would have grown up if James and Lily had survived? They ascended an ornate marble staircase graced with a gigantic crystal chandelier. Harry could only guess how many elves it took to keep that clean. The home was impressive, but there was nothing homey or comforting about it. Harold swung open a massive double door and led his twin into his bedroom.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sirius, James and Lily all kind of stared at each other once the boys left the room. "Well, my, oh" Lily stuttered gracefully, "Harry is a bit, er, scruffier than I would have imagined." James nodded in agreement.

Sirius could feel his hackles rise. "My Harry has never had a parent teach him about grooming or wardrobe. His only clothing has been Dudley's hand-me-downs until Hogwarts."

"Dudley? Petunia's whale?" James coughed in disbelief. "Couldn't you have taught him a thing or two about fashion, Padfoot?"

"Prongs! If you remember, I spent 12 years in Azkaban for your murder, and then was on the run from the Ministry. It's a bit hard to worry about Witch Weekly's Ten Best Dressed list when you are trying to survive!" Sirius was cheesed off. All his friends seemed to care about was Harry's looks. "Anyway – he has had a lot more on his mind than his hair – there hasn't been a year at Hogwarts that Voldemort or someone else hasn't tried to kill him."

"You would think that nice Rita Skeeter would help him out in that department at least" Lily sniffed. Sirius gaped at her. They just didn't get it.

"In our world Rita and the Ministry both hate Harry. They think he's an attention grabbing lunatic, and refused to believe Voldemort was back until Snakeface attacked the Ministry this year." Sirius knew he had to change the subject before he lost his temper. "Anyway, what should we do about his education? I doubt that Hogwarts would be a good idea. And what about custody? I'd love to keep him with me if that's ok with you."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"This is your bedroom?" Harry gaped in astonishment. Twenty foot faux painted ceilings, a huge fireplace, balcony overlooking the gardens, and a bed that was larger than any Harry had ever seen was just the start. Glimpses of a private study and a bathroom to put the Prefect's bath at Hogwarts to shame could be seen through open doors. The room had to be around 1000 square feet with ornate gilded furniture, and huge murals depicting the fall of Voldemort. Those were quite amusing – the canvases displaying fainting and weak Lily and James clasping their hands in fear and supplication while a baby Harry draped in flowing satin was standing holding a wand out to Voldemort with determination and bravery. It reminded Harry of paintings he once saw on a school trip in a museum of the baby Jesus.

"What is your room like, Harry?" Harold asked with a polite modicum of interest.

"Oh, er, well" Harry stammered uncomfortably. Well, might as well be honest and see how Harold reacts. "Until I got my Hogwarts letter the Dursleys made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. After my letter they gave me Dudley's second bedroom with some broken furniture." He watched Harold's face to see how he reacted.

It got Harold's attention. "What? A cupboard? That's sick! Why didn't you complain?"

Harry smirked bitterly. "Complain to whom? Dumbledore brushed me off every time – told me it wasn't as bad as I said. The ministry said I was looking for attention. Any time I tried to get help, I was punished worse." He gently picked up a framed photo of Harold with his folks that was sitting on pretty little end table and stroked the gilded carvings around the edge. "I always dreamed that my folks were really alive and would rescue me. I ended up learning I had to look out for myself at too young an age."

His fancy twin shook his head with pity. "Well, let's get you cleaned up at least. I can't have you seen looking like that" and he gestured at Harry's old clothing that peeked out from under his outer robe. Harry glanced down at his rags – he never really thought about his wardrobe before.

Harold grabbed his baggy t-shirt and helped him out of it. The room went quiet and he turned to look at Harold, who was gaping at his back. "What happened to you?" he gasped, pointing at the many scars criss-crossing his shoulders and torso.

Harry shrugged "Uncle Vernon. He beat me with a belt all the time".

"Why?" Harold asked weakly, collapsing into a chair. "Why would our uncle do that to you?"

"Any number of reasons" Harry laughed bitterly. "Burned the bacon, didn't mow the lawn fast enough, found a weed in the garden, tried to protect myself from Dudley and his gang – any thing."

"I, I, I'm sorry, Harry" Harold looked at him with respect and pity. For some reason pity coming from himself didn't bother him as much as it did coming from others. "Wow – you must think I'm spoiled" Harold laughed weakly.

"It is kind of a shock," Harry agreed. "I think you are amazingly lucky though."

"Tell me about Hogwarts in your world" Harold asked, and gestured to a large comfortable couch. "Zippy! Tea and snacks please!"

The house elf that had met Harry after the veil popped in and bowed low, giving him a subtle wink. Harry kept his expression neutral. "Coming right up, Master Harold."

"Hmmm – let's alternate years. I'll tell you about my first year, and you tell me about yours" Harry mused after thanking Zippy (whom Harold totally ignored) for the refreshments.

"Good idea – go ahead" Harold handed him a soft and luxurious day robe to put on and sat back to listen.

"Right then – year one. I didn't know I was a wizard until my letter was hand delivered by Hagrid. The Dursleys kept destroying the ones sent by owl" Harry started in.

"You were never told about magic?" Harold gaped.

"Nope" Harry shook his head. "The Dursleys hate it – told me Mum and Dad were killed in a car wreck and that was how I got the scar. Anyway, Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley to buy my stuff and he gave me Hedwig – my first friend ever."

"Hedwig? Hedwig…" Harold pondered thoughtfully. "Oh – I have an owl named Hedwig. Is that who you mean?"

"Yea – I guess she's not that important to you in this world. She was my only friend for most of the time. We are really close" Harry sighed wistfully. He missed her, but he felt positive Snape was looking after her. "So Hogwarts came and I found the gate finally, and met Ron Weasley on the train. He was my best mate" Harry winced painfully.

"Hum! Weasley? I don't hang around him much – they are a bit beneath the Potters, if you know what I mean" Harold laughed arrogantly.

Harry raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. He had loved the Weasleys until this summer. "Well, the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I begged for anything else because I had met Malfoy in Diagon Alley. So I got Gryffindor."

"Slytherin? Are you dark, Harry?" Harold asked with a bit of shock, but mostly childish awe.

Harry snorted. "No – not at all. But ambitious? Oh yeah. Bitter? A bit. Clever at surviving – you bet. I have no love for Voldemort or the dark arts, trust me." He sipped some tea and continued. "It was a wild year – Malfoy kept trying to get me in trouble, I got chosen as seeker for Quidditch, and Quirrell – well, I guess you understand that."

"You play Quidditch? And in your first year?" Harold gaped. "I can't stand flying – too dangerous. What about Quirrell?"

After giving Harold a strange look, Harry continued. "Well, in my world Quirrell was hosting a parasitic Voldemort in the back of his head – that's why he wore that weird turban. He applied for the position so he could get closer to Dumbledore and get access to the Philosopher's Stone and to me so he could finish me off." Harry watched the strange expressions filtering across Harold's face. This was obviously all new to him. "Let's see, Ron and I took down a troll in the girl's bathroom that was attacking our friend Hermione, I got my first Christmas gifts ever that year, and the three of us ended up having to rescue the Stone, and I accidentally killed Quirrell in the process. Self-defense, so I don't feel bad about it really."

"Gosh" Harold breathed deeply. "How dangerous and exciting! My first year was a snore. I'm in Gryffindor naturally, don't play Quidditch, and my best friends are Dean and Kenneth. Draco? He's perfectly civil to me – we _are_ both ancient families. Quirrell was strange – he only lasted a couple weeks. I accidentally brushed against him in class one day, and his arm broke out in boils and hissing – he ran out of the room screaming! Never saw him again. Do you suppose it was something to do with Voldemort?"

"Yah – he can't stand our touch – or couldn't until he came back with our blood" Harry mused sadly. "I expect that Dumbledore must have realized what was going on after you touched him, and took care of him"

"Well, glad I didn't have to" Harold sniffed. "What would have that done to my reputation?"

Harry gave him a strange look and nibbled a biscuit. "It was hushed up in my world too. Nobody wanted to believe Voldemort was still around."

"Wow – strange how different we are, Harry" Harold mused as he gave Harry a look of respect.

Harry shrugged. "Let's see – year two. That year stunk. Everyone found out I was a parselmouth and thought I was the Heir of Slytherin. Malfoy's father gave Ginny Weasley the diary and she let the basilisk loose. I killed the basilisk and saved her, in the process Lockhart tried to obliviate Ron and I so he could take the credit, and it backfired and he's still in St. Mungos." He sat back with anticipation – he couldn't' wait to hear how Harold's year was.

"I, uh, er" Harold stammered. "I don't know where to begin! You're a parselmouth? Doesn't that prove you are, er, well…"

"Dark?" Harry filled in helpfully. "No – not at all. It's just a language – probably got the ability through the curse scar. Have you ever tried to talk to a snake? You probably can too"

"No! I've never even seen a snake close up!" Harold gave an almost feminine shudder. "And dear Gilderoy tried to obliviate you? It sounds like he's a fraud in your world! He's one of our dearest friends!"

It took superhuman effort on Harry's part not to roll his eyes. Harold and the Potters liking Lockhart came as no surprise in the least.

"My year two was fine" Harold mused. "That whole Chamber of Secrets thing was a drag, but everyone who was petrified was eventually restored. Diary? Now that you mention it, Padma gave me an ugly old diary she found in the girl's room. I burned it in the fireplace when she wasn't looking. She said it felt magical, but it was simply old and dirty. Ginny Weasley? She did disappear for a while, but she turned up again at the end of the year – spent some time in the hospital."

Harry roared with laughter, slapping his knee. "Well, Harold. When you burned that diary, you killed one form of Voldemort. He had trapped a bit of his 16 year old soul in that book. I wonder what happened to the basilisk?"

"Do tell?" Harold turned pale at the thought. "So is there still a basilisk wandering around Hogwarts?"

"I doubt it" Harry snickered. "If Ginny survived and got out of the chamber, someone had to have rescued her." The two young men looked at each other and burst into laughter. There was a bond forming between the two Harrys, despite their vast differences.

"I think I know about your third year from Sirius" Harold said gently. "He told us how he was framed for the murders Pettigrew did, and how he escaped to find you. That was some amazing thing you did for him, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Sirius was the best thing that ever happened to me. I thought I finally had a way to escape from the Dursleys when he showed up. A family of my own."

"My third year was sad – my Sirius died in a raid against Death Eaters" Harold spoke lowly, looking down. "I had never lost anyone before – it was rough."

"Wow – I'm sorry. I don't know how close you two were, but it just about killed me when I lost my Sirius a couple months ago." Harry shared the first moment of true understanding with his twin in silence for a while before continuing.

"Year four – let's see," Harry pondered. "Moody was Crouch Jr under polyjuice – he entered me into the tournament and Dumbledore wouldn't let me out of it."

"You wanted out?" Harold squeaked. "Mum and Dad had to really pull some strings and make some threats to let me enter. Really frosted some folks, too. But I _am_ the Boy-Who-Lived, and I deserve some perks."

"Really?" Harry shook his head. "Naw – Moody entered me – I wanted nothing to do with it. Most folks hated my guts and accused me of looking for attention all the time. All I wanted to do was hide and be normal." Harold gaped a bit and Harry continued. "I still have problems talking about the third task. Er, the cup was a portkey, Wormtail bound me to the tomb and brought back Voldemort, and we dueled. Our wands share brother cores, so I was able to fight him off, grab Cedric's body and return." Harry swallowed back a sob and sat back.

"You're kidding!" Harold exclaimed. "Mine wasn't at all like that. Let's see – I failed the first two tasks miserably – I refused to fight a dragon, and could not think for the life of me a way to stay under water for an hour. I'm really not sure how I did so well in the maze – it seems that Victor and Fleur gave up pretty early. Cedric and I just happened to get to the cup together and raced to it – both touched it at the same time. The cup was a portkey for me too, though I never knew it was Moody who did it. Crouch Jr? Never heard of him." He tapped his finger on his lips thinking deeply. "I never dueled Voldemort. Pettigrew killed Cedric, restored Voldemort's body, and when he cut me loose to duel I ran and grabbed the portkey. At least that's what I've been told. Mum had me obliviated after I gave my statement to the aurors so I wouldn't have to deal with it."

"Obliviated? Are you ok with that?" Harry asked in shock.

"Sure" Harold shrugged. "Who wants to think about that junk?"

"Er, right then" Harry muttered. "Fifth year was a real drag – worse yet for me. Fudge refused to believe Voldemort was back and started a hate campaign through the Daily Prophet to discredit me. Dudley was attacked by two dementors and I drove them off with a Patronus, and almost got thrown out of school for it."

"You can do a Patronus? A corporal patronus?" Harold squeaked. Harry gave a nod and a shrug and continued.

"I spent a depressing summer at Grimmauld Place – our Kretcher is insane and quite nasty," Harry continued.

"Give him clothes then" Harold shrugged.

"Can't – we use Grimmauld for the Order of the Phoenix. Kretcher loves Bella and would go to her immediately." Harry sighed – Harold certainly was clueless. "Anyway, Umbridge was murder. She kept giving me detention because I insisted that Voldemort was back, and she used a blood quill on me a bunch of times."

"A real blood quill? Those are illegal!" Harold cried. Harry simply showed him the back of his hand where the scars 'I will not tell lies' was still clearly visible.

"Hermione and I started up the DA – a club to teach defense to students since Umbridge refused to let us do practical's. I was banned from Quidditch, and I had a vision of Arthur Weasley being bit by Nagini, and Dumbledore was able to save his life." Harry said, concentrating on recalling all the painful events of the year. "Snape started to give me occlumency lessons to block all the visions from Voldemort, but he was ordered by Dumbledore to fail so I'd have an open window to him incase we lost Snape as a spy."

"Snape is a spy for the Order?" Harold gaped. "I always thought he was a Death Eater, but Dumbledore assured us he was safe. Dad hates him so he has me privately tutored in potions so I don't have to deal with him."

"Wow – must be nice. Though Snape turned out to be ok – one of the few in my world" Harry laughed bitterly. "Anyway the rest of the year Hogwarts was in chaos. Umbridge got Hagrid, Trewlaney and Dumbledore sacked, discovered our DA, and really messed up the school. She tried to use Veritasserum on me, and then tried to do an Unforgivable on me, but she's not in jail yet."

Harold just shook his head, eyes wide.

"Anyway, Voldemort sent me a vision of Sirius being captured. I had nobody I could confirm it with, so Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville and I went on Thestral to rescue him. Turns out he was safe, and Voldemort wanted me to retrieve the copy of the prophecy about us. Everyone was injured, Sirius came to rescue _me_, Bella pushed Sirius through the veil, and then Dumbledore shows up to battle Voldemort and chase him off." Harry sighed sorrowfully. "The only good thing out of all of it was the ministry could not deny the return of Voldemort any more.

He leaned back and took a drink of his now cold tea with a grimace. "Since that night Dumbledore told me the prophecy, and I lost my temper. He let me trash his office, gave a feeble apology about letting me on my own so I could have a normal life because he 'loved me' so much" Harry made a face, "and then forbid anyone to speak or write to me while I was at Privet Drive. Dumbledore learned that if I died, Voldemort would too, so he ordered everyone to stop protecting me, hoping that either the Dursleys or Death Eaters would kill me. Snape came and warned me and helped me to escape."

"Oh Harry – how did you survive all that horror?" Harold was actually crying, much to Harry's embarrassment.

Harry shrugged. "I've never known any other kind of life. The betrayal of my friends has hurt the worse though. Voldemort kept sending me visions that Sirius was trying to escape the veil. I knew they were probably false dreams from him, but I had nothing to live for. Turns out Voldemort knew my death meant his own, so he opened the veil for me to remove me from his world and keep his own butt alive. So here I am."

"Well, you can stay here, nice and safe now!" Harold exclaimed excitedly. "Mum and Dad have plenty of room as you can see – you can finally have a normal life!"

Harry looked around the luxurious bedroom with a sad smile. "I doubt it, Harold. Don't you see – Voldemort is still running free in my world. I'm going to take this chance to heal and learn, but I've got to find a way back and kill him. That's what the prophecy says – only I can do it."

"But Harry, you don't owe them anything. Look how they treated you! Leave them – they deserve it" Harold scoffed dismissively. "Anyway, we have the same prophecy here, so you can help me with our Voldemort. He's a bit of a loser, and I'm hopeless at dueling. I could sure use your help."

Harry laughed – sincerely and long. "Harold, I'd be glad to help you with your Moldyshorts problem. He sounds like he'd be good practice for the real thing. But eventually I will need to deal with my Tom. As much as my world has betrayed me, there are plenty of innocent folks who never hurt me that don't deserve to be abandoned."


	6. Growing Up Harold

**Chapter Six – Growing Up Harold**

"So how did it go with Little Lord Fauntleroy?" Sirius asked Harry sarcastically. They were back at Grimmauld Place, tucking into a fantastic dinner that Kretcher had whipped up.

Harry rolled his eyes and banged his head on the table a few times for good measure. "You were right, Padfoot. Whatta ponce. He's never done a thing on his own! He's totally consumed by his looks and image and press. Oh – he's a nice enough guy, I guess, but ugh! He's a lot like a skinny Dudley too. He gets everything he wants and doesn't care about those around him." He leaned back from the table for a moment and added thoughtfully "Zippy works for the Potters."

"Yah…" Sirius quirked an eyebrow at him. "He brought you here – I thought you knew that."

"Well, he did mention something like that" Harry pouted. "It was just strange to see him again."

"Kretcher – this is superb" Sirius complemented the elf that beamed with pleasure. He turned to Harry "I learned from you to treat my elf better. I wondered how much of our Kretcher's nastiness came from my attitude." He looked his godson over. "You know, Pup – it's almost a blessing that James and Lily died in our world, as much as it pains me to say it. Your life has been horrible, but look how you turned out. Ethical, strong and independent."

"Yah" Harry agreed weakly. "That did cross my mind a few times. But boy Harold's a snappy dresser."

"I noticed he got you gussied up" Sirius snickered and dodged the roll Harry lobbed at his head.

"I haven't told you what Dumbledore did you my magic" Harry broke in, changing subjects abruptly. "He had bound my core – that was why I was such an abysmal student in so many ways. I've got to re-learn all my magic now – I tried a couple first year spells and almost blew up my trunk at the Leaky Caldron".

"Hum" Sirius half grunted, half growled. "Well, that won't be a problem. I talked it over with James and Lily, and we decided to let you stay with me, if that's ok with you." Harry nodded happily. "We all agreed that two Boys-Who-Lived would be too confusing for Hogwarts, especially considering your differences in ability. So Remus and I, with Lily and James' help, will home school you and get you up to snuff. We will meet Dumbledore and see if he's a dirt-bag in this universe before we ask his help or let him know where you live. The few times I've met him he seemed cool."

"That sounds great, Sirius" Harry grinned. "Is Remus the same here?"

"Naw – he's a lot like my old pal from Hogwarts days. Our Moony had suffered a lot in the past 15 years – Lily and James dying, thinking I'm a traitor, my death, Pettigrew, your problems – it really weighed heavily on the guy. This Remus is much happier and younger feeling." Sirius looked Harry over a bit before speaking. "So, have you had time to think of any goals?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah – a bit. Harold didn't agree though. He thinks we should buy a little home in the country and settle down all happily ever after."

"Well, that is an option, Pup" Sirius said carefully.

"No, it's not" Harry frowned darkly. "I hate Dumbledore. I lost all respect for Ron, Ginny and Hermione when they abandoned me. I loathe the ministry. But I still feel it's my duty to defeat Voldemort in our world. Lots of folks are having their lives destroyed by him, and have done nothing to deserve it. If I'm the only one to stop him, I'll do it."

"I'm glad to hear that, Harry" Sirius nodded, pride showing in his eyes. "At first all Prongs and Lily could see was your clothing and lack of hair style. But they quickly came to respect you. Although they didn't say it out loud, I knew they ended up feeling like you had done a lot with your life and IckleHaroldkins was useless. James was practically green with envy when I told him you were seeker in your first year." Sirius chuckled fondly, reliving that particular memory.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Good, good. Once more time, but add the emphasis on the middle syllable." Remus was standing next to Harry in the basement of Grimmauld Place. Both had their wands out and pointing at a paper target on the wall. The wall was smoking and singed in many places.

"_Everte Statum" _Harry concentrated in his mind, not moving his lips or making a sound. He was rewarded with a burst of magic thrown at the target, bludgeoning it to shreds. He grinned and mopped his forehead with a conjured towel.

"Silent casting takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" Warm amber eyes smiled at the young man fondly. He had coached the Harold of this world many times over the past five years, but Remus had swiftly concluded the boy was astoundingly weak and untalented. Harry, on the other hand, was eager, quick to learn, and the most powerful wizard he had ever taught. It also helped that Harry, unlike Harold, wasn't a spoiled brat.

Harry sat against the cool stone wall and relaxed. "Sure does, Moony. But I could not have done it if my core was still blocked. I really owe Snape more than I can pay back."

"Fascinating. And what do you owe me?" came a silky voice from the doorway. Harry looked up to see Sirius and Snape observing, both with amused looks.

"Professor!" Harry jumped to his feet and grabbed the man's hand and pumped it excitedly. Snape, to no one's surprise, jumped back like a snake had bitten him. Some things never change. Harry blushed and let go of the dark-eyed spy to give him his personal space.

"I apologize, Professor Snape. Has Sirius told you about me?" Harry looked him squarely in the eyes to allow him to read his sincerity. Snape carefully nodded.

"Yes, but I must admit I was hesitant to believe him until I saw for myself." He gave a quick nod of submission to Padfoot. "I agree – there is no way you are that useless Golden Boy of Potter Manor. The thought of two Harry Potters was more joy than I could contain at first" he grimaced sarcastically, "but thankfully you do not seem to be the same dunderhead he is."

"Ah – my Snape wouldn't agree" Harry grinned, "but he really saved my bacon." He dropped the smile and grew serious. "I really do owe him, and I was in so much shock I never told him. I did give him my wizard's debt oath before leaving though."

The potion master started unblinking at the boy. After enough time to determine his leg was not being pulled, he relaxed marginally. "Well, Mr. Potter, you have shocked me in several ways today. I have come to talk with you about the order and my relationship with it and the headmaster."

"Cool" Harry smiled, and led the way upstairs to the kitchen. Kretcher served refreshments (which Harry praised joyfully, enjoying the sane and cheerful Kretcher with new delight each time) and everyone got comfortable. Fascinated, he watched the cordial interaction between Remus, Sirius and Severus – something that would not have happened with any degree of comfort in his world.

"Black has filled me in on your world, Mr. Potter" Snape began with his rich and serious baritone voice filling the kitchen. "Although the Order of the Phoenix is still operational and meets monthly, it is no where near as active or as necessary as your own. I was a spy for the Order back in the first war, but his temporary death severed the dark mark. I did not join up again when he returned, on the Headmaster's insistence."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. He refused the Dark Lord and wasn't executed? This Tom Riddle really was a weakling.

"Yes, Harry" Remus smiled warmly. "Our Voldemort is no where near the threat of yours. Although he has murdered two muggleborns since his return a year ago, we have been discussing how to defeat him for good. But it's not a high-pressure situation – we lose more wizards and witches from apparating-under-the-influence every year than we do to Voldemort."

The Boy-Who-Lived just shook his head at Sirius. Some dimensions have all the luck. "Well, with everyone's permission, I'd be glad to finish my training and then do a practice run on your Voldemort. It would make my job easier when I get back home."

Snape gave a dry snort. "Be my guest. Do you have any suggestions how to accomplish this? For my part, I volunteer to teach you occlumency and potions while you are here."

"Thanks. Hmmm" Harry drummed his fingers on the table. "How did Harold Potter survive the killing curse? My Dumbledore had told me that my mother had invoked 'ancient blood magic' when she died for me, and that by living with the Dursleys for a couple weeks a year it kept the wards active." He gave a sad sigh. "Naturally, I trust nothing that the headmaster told me – neither did my Professor Snape."

Snape's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I have never had a reason to distrust our Albus Dumbledore. Obviously with the survival of the Potters he was never given the choice of whom to trust you with, but I have never seen the man make selfish or cruel decisions." He looked over at Remus. "Wolf, have you ever heard the Potters say anything about blood magic or the like?"

Moony shook his head thoughtfully. "No, but I never thought to ask. Most of us dumbly accepted that Harold was born to defy Voldemort and was therefore immune to his killing curse. I can visit and ask if you wish."

"Oh crud" Harry moaned. "I suppose I should ask them and Harold too. I really do need the information." He rolled his eyes and felt more than a little queasy. It wasn't lost on Snape, who gave a smirk of amusement.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry was leaning into the wind, willing his broom faster as he strained for the snitch. James, Sirius, Remus and he were having a small friendly game of two-on-two Quidditch at Potter Manor. A small burst of speed and Harry triumphantly grasped the golden orb and waved it cheekily at the Marauders

James and Remus groaned and smiled in congratulations. "Great game, Harry. Where did you learn to fly like that?" James landed his broom and mopped his neck with a towel an elf handed to him.

Sirius scoffed as the rest of them landed and joined him on the ground. "Harry was born to fly – took to a broom from the first moment. McGonagall snatched him up right out of his first class and dragged him to Captain Wood." He playfully snapped Harry with his towel.

"Padfoot!" Harry whined, blushing to his roots. "Where did you hear about that?"

"Hermione told me" Sirius shrugged. "Ron wasn't too happy while she was recalling the story though."

"Wow" James handed the boy a tall glass of pumpkin juice and shook his head with admiration. "Perhaps you could give Harold some pointers. He really hates flying, but perhaps he's never given it enough chance."

"I'd be glad too" Harry smiled. "I do need to talk with him – is he in his room?"

"Sure, kiddo" the man nodded warmly. "Go on in."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry found his way to the entry hall after a few wrong turns. Some houses are just too big, he decided. He ran into Lily before he had a chance to start up the stairs, who gestured for him to follow her into a side parlor. They sat down on stiff little sofas and she called an elf for tea.

"May I ask you some questions, Harry?" she started right in, looking a bit nervous and unsure.

"Sure, if I can ask some in return" he grinned and tried to convey sincerity to the woman who was in some ways his mother.

"That would be fine" she returned the smile, though still seemed on edge. She paused, gulped, and dove in. "What do you think of our Harold?"

It was Harry's turn to gulp. "Er, in what way?" he squeaked out.

"OK, I must be honest" she sighed. "I suppose we didn't do a very good job raising our son. It was all so exciting when he defeated Voldemort, and we all just got caught up in the fame and such. Now that we see you, we realize what our boy is missing and we want your advice how to fix the situation."

"Err, well, um" Harry stammered. "Harold and I had two completely different upbringings. He could not be independent like me unless he had been forced to take care of himself from babyhood." _'And he wouldn't learn how to care for others when everyone waited on his every whim his whole life' _he thought to himself.

"Is that the difference?" Lily asked intently. "He's spoiled and you were abused? Isn't there a happy medium?"

Harry gave a gentle laugh. "We are both products of two extremes perhaps? If I had firm but loving parents, I wouldn't have such a short temper and I'd trust adults more. If he had a tad more strictness in his life, perhaps he would have exercised his magical core. I just came in to talk with him and offer my services as a tutor."

"Oh Harry – that would be wonderful!" Lily clapped her hands together and gave him a grateful smile. "Now, what did you have to ask me?"

"A few things" Harry now felt nervous. "First of all, what do I call you and, er, James? You are my parents, but not my parents, and I, um…" he trailed off helplessly.

"Oh you poor child!" Lily gasped with shame. "I'm sorry – we should have addressed this sooner. Do you have any preferences?"

"Well, I guess Mum and Dad are sort of too personal" Harry stammered, "and I don't feel right calling you by your first names. Mr. And Mrs. Potter is right out, and I can't call anyone I like 'aunt and uncle'."

"How about 'mother and father' then?" Lily asked gently. "It's accurate but not too familiar until you feel more comfortable around us. Harold never calls us that, so you aren't 'competing' "

"Thank you, mother" Harry smiled, trying it out. It felt ok. "Now, I need to ask something rather personal, but it will help us in defeating Voldemort. Have you told Harold the prophecy, and did you invoke any blood magic or protection spells on him when Voldemort attacked you guys back then?"

"Whew!" Lily laughed. "Right – where to start. Yes, Harold knows the prophecy. Dumbledore sat down with us and told him just a few months ago. He seemed to take it well – we discussed it and agreed that we can help him if it comes down to it. Someone can wound Voldemort and he can give the death blow or something like that."

"Er, don't be in a rush to do that" Harry broke in with a panic. "Seriously – that would be bad."

"Why?" she asked, seeing the fear in Harry's face.

"Once Sirius and I can verify that your Dumbledore isn't evil like ours is, he can research and back me up on this. But in my world, Voldemort and I are bound – if I die, he dies, and vice versa. That's why he helped me through the veil – it broke our bond and keeps him safe." Harry gave Lily an apologetic look. "That's why I've got to ask a lot of questions and stuff before we start training both Harold and I. We want Voldemort dead, but not at the cost of Harold!"

Lily Potter sat back weakly. She stood and opened an ornate cabinet and poured herself a very unfeminine shot of Firewhiskey, threw it down her throat before sitting back down. "Right. Blood magic, protection spells? I haven't a clue what you are asking me there."

Part of Harry died with that statement. He had always held to the pure, unsoiled image of his mother casting a ward of protection over him with her last dying breath, willingly giving her life to save his own. Obviously in this world that was not the case – something about weak and spoiled little Harold Potter _had_ defeated Voldemort – without his mother's help. "Could you tell me about the night Harold killed Voldemort please?" he asked sadly.

"There isn't much I can tell you, Harry. Peter betrayed us the very day we made him secret keeper. Voldemort broke through the wards and told James and I he wanted Harold. We refused, naturally, and he started to duel us. I ran upstairs to try and escape with Harold. He stunned James, and then stunned me as I tried to grab Harold out of his crib." Tears came unbidden to her lovely green eyes as she recalled the horror of that night. "I came to when Dumbledore enervated me. Voldemort was nothing but a robe and wand lying on the nursery floor, and Harold was crying, fine except for the cut on his forehead."

"Do you know why Voldemort's Avada Kedavra didn't work on Harold?" Harry asked with interest.

"We never really thought about it. Dumbledore explained he was the child of prophecy, so we assumed that fate somehow had protected him." She gave an accepting shrug.

"Right then" Harry pondered what she said. "What about Harold's magical core? Are you aware of any binding on it?"

Lily gave a musical laugh, slightly tinged with bitterness. "We had him checked a few times now – by Dumbledore, independent tester, and at-home testing. His magic is not bound or restricted in any sense. He's just weak." She stood and poured herself another shot of Firewhiskey. "Ironic – he defeated Voldemort as a baby, but has the magical ability of a near-squib."

"Perhaps having to deny my magic for so many years strengthened my core somehow" Harry offered with a bit of embarrassment. "Dumbledore had bound my core – probably almost immediately when I started Hogwarts. I was an awful student because of it, but whenever I was in danger or stressed, my magic would go wild. I don't understand what happened with Harold, but I hope to figure it out."

"So you are going to be my teacher?" Harold smiled with amusement. Harry would have felt humiliated if he had been told he needed summer tutoring. It would have been worse to learn he had to be taught by himself. But 'evil' twin Harold thought it was entertaining.

"Yep" Harry said while stopping his eyes from rolling with super-human effort. "We're going to work on flying, defense, and dueling."

"Well, what are you getting out of all this, Harry?" Harold glanced over from his nail buffing. "Are my parents paying you well?"

Harry sputtered and choked. "Pay??? I'm not getting paid!" he practically shouted, "I just want to make sure you survive!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Harold looked at him with confusion. "I mean, the house is warded and guarded, I have a body guard at school, and Voldemort isn't much of a threat. How could I possibly be in any danger?"

He could bang his head on the table or scream, but Harry opted for the deep calming breaths instead. "Harold, even if your Voldemort is a bed-wetting wimp, he is still one of the two most powerful wizards in Britain! You are the only person to stop him in his tracks so far." He stuck his finger in Harold's face for emphasis. "Voldemort wants to take over the world – as soon as he figures out how, he will start to remove anything that gets in his way. One of those things is you!"

Harold turned an unattractive shade of pale green. "Oh my. Oh my. What do we do?"

"We get you stronger!" Harry answered, weak with relief that it was finally sinking into Harold's thick and well-groomed head. "The bottom line is that you have to be responsible for saving yourself!"

"Well, where do we start?" Harold shrugged with defeat. "It's going to be some hard work to get me dueling passably."

"First off, I'd really like to learn what I can about the time you defeated Voldemort" Harry said carefully. It was a really touchy subject for him, but obviously a source of pride for Harold. But then, Harold never lost his parents in the incident.

"Well, check out my paintings" Harold gestured proudly at the murals on his bedroom's walls. "They were painted by Amedaus Gainsburough – the wizard descendant of Thomas Gainsburough."

"Er, Harold – those can't be right" Harry replied, wishing he could pound his head against a post or something. He really had to do something about his tendency to want to hurt himself every time Harold opened his mouth. "Your mum told me she and your dad were unconscious, and you were in your crib at the time."

"Really?" Harold looked abashed. "I always hoped it was just like the paintings. I do cut a dashing figure! Well, let me find my Dad's pensieve – maybe we can dredge up something." He got up and left the room.

The soft pop of elf apparition sounded by Harry's elbow. He turned and saw Zippy, who bowed low to him and cleared his throat.

"Hi Zippy – what's up?" Harry asked with interest. He hadn't seen much of the elf - Harold was quite the taskmaster when it came to 'lesser creatures', much to Harry's disgust.

"I was there, Master Harry" Zippy explained. "I would be glad to tell you. But perhaps not in Master Harold's presence?"

"Ok" Harry stammered. "I'll get Harold to let me borrow your services for a while – thanks Zippy!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harold soon returned with a pensieve, but they were unable to retrieve any sort of useful memory. All the boy could recall from that eventful night was a bright green flash of light, which told them nothing beyond what they knew – that Harold had indeed been struck with the killing curse.

They decided to go out to the grounds and see where Harold was at on a broom. Abysmal was the best way to sum it up. Harold was nervous, skitterish, and jerky. The broom refused to go more than four foot off the ground, and would only stay aloft a few minutes at a time. Harry tried out the broom – it was a state of the art Nimbus, not yet released for the public. It was a beauty of responsiveness and speed. It wasn't a problem with the broom – it was definitely a problem with Harold.

So Harry spent the next few hours flying low and slow with Harold, chatting with him as they floated in lazy circles around the manor lake. The more Harold got into the conversation (which, to Harry's undying disgust, had to involve girls, clothes, or his public), the more he relaxed and was able to let his instincts fly the broom properly. But at this rate it would take all summer to get him higher than six feet.

To Harry's amazement, Lily and James were ecstatic when they came back to the house. "I've never seen him fly so well, Harry – you are a genius!" James thumped him on the back and gave his son a proud, manly hug. Lily was positively weepy with joy, hugging her 'boy' like he had slain a minotaur or something. They had never gone higher than five foot, and certainly never faster than a good run.

When pressed with what he would accept as payment, Harry finally asked if he could borrow Zippy for a day or two to help with cleaning the attic, as Ketcher was pretty old. "You have to want more than that, Harry. We would gladly lend you Zippy and five others for the asking anytime" Lily gushed.

Harold pondered for a moment. "I've got it!" he cried, spun on his heal and raced up the stairs. Lily, James and Harry all looked blankly at each other. A few minutes later Harold came racing down the stairs, a snowy owl on his shoulder. "This is what you need, Harry!" and he handed the beloved owl over to him.

"Hedwig!" Harry crooned, his eyes suspiciously shiny. He scratched her neck, stroked her back and looked at Harold with questioning eyes.

Harold snorted. "I saw the look on your face when you spoke of her. It's awful when a kid only has an owl for a friend and ally. I think she's great, but I have four other owls – I certainly can spare her." He paused for a moment as his parents beamed with pride. "Anyway – look at her – she's is all over you!"

Sure enough, Hedwig knew the bond that Harry had for her and responded in kind. She nipped his fingers and hooted low and comfortingly. There was no doubt the owl wanted this Harry as much as he wanted her.

"Th-th-thanks" Harry stammered, choked with emotion. "You have no idea what this means to me." With a poorly concealed sniff, he took his leave of Potter Manor to floo back home to Sirius until the next day's lessons.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Zippy sat at the kitchen table with Sirius and Harry. Harry was always interested in the differences between house-elves. Zippy was more independent and less insane than Dobby, with a sharp intelligence that spoke volumes. Harry wondered more than once how he could stand being bound to the Potters, but assumed it would be rude to ask.

Harry reached up to his shoulder to scratch Hedwig's head for the hundredth time since returning home. He still could not believe he had her back – it was like a hole in his heart when he had to leave her behind. Part of Harry, however, felt more than a little guilt – almost like he was betraying _his _Hedwig back home.

"I see that look on your face, Master Harry," Zippy spoke after finishing his meal. "I would not worry about your Hedwig back home feeling jealous. Owls are multi-dimensional creatures – like elves and others. They inhabit all dimensions at the same time. That is why they are so wise – they live thousands of possibilities at once. She really is your Hedwig at the same time she is Master Harold's."

"Does that mean she can send messages back and forth between worlds?" Sirius choked in amazement.

"You would have to ask her, sir, but owls are capable of that, yes." Zippy smiled as Hedwig puffed up and gave a prideful hoot as if to say 'of course I can!'

"Now, you wish to hear about that infamous night at Potter Manor, kind sirs?" Zippy watched the two wizards staring at him with intent expressions.

"Yah, but you aren't going to have to punish yourself or anything, are you Zippy?" Harry asked, recalling Dobby's strange practice of ironing his own fingers for thinking bad thoughts about the Malfoys.

Zippy gave a very un-elfish snort. "No. Some elves are multi-dimensional too. I have been granted that ability because of the special needs of Harry Potter. Because of that, you are my master every bit as much as Master Harold. As Dobby explained to you, Master Harry, the elves owe the Boy-Who-Lived a debt of gratitude for defeating Voldemort the first time. But more than that – all house-elves assist you in every reality because of how much we will gain if you win. We have always needed our bonds with wizards, but we crave understanding and compassionate masters."

"Then why is Dobby considered crazy, and why was Winky pining so badly?" Harry asked, dumfounded.

Zippy winked at Harry – a very un-house-elfish gesture. "We have images to maintain, kind sir. It's a dangerous universe, and the house-elves learned early that it was far safer to be overlooked and underestimated. Hence we act stupid, crazy, or self-punishing. I can assure you the elves are far nobler than you know."

"Whoa" Sirius grabbed his head. "My whole world just turned upside down." Kretcher actually smirked at the man.

"Anyway" Zippy snapped his fingers and a pensieve appeared. "Time to see what really happened 15 years ago". He touched his finger to his forehead and twirled it into the stone basin. The familiar silvery liquid started to swirl. He gestured to Harry, and the two of them ducked their heads into the liquid.


	7. The Innocents

**Chapter Seven – The Innocents**

The two of them were standing on the marble stairs of Potter Manor. Past Zippy was standing in front of them cocking his head, as if hearing voices that they could not.

"This is where I first realized the wards were being tampered with" the Zippy standing with them spoke. "I was surprised that an Auror like Master James didn't have a better warning system.

Harry noted unconsciously that the manor was not so 'uppity' looking 15 years ago. It was grand, but certainly not 'in your face' like it was now. The 12-foot high chandelier was missing, and the paintings on the walls were not in heavily carved and gilded frames, but in simpler varnished wood ones. Past Zippy's face grew agitated and he started to run down the stairs.

"I was going to warn Master James and Mistress Lily – I was afraid to pop when the wards were failing. It could have interfered." Zippy quietly explained as they watched his past self start down, then stop and fly back up the stairs and bolt toward Harold's room with a resigned look on his face.

"Come on" Zippy shouted as he ran after himself. Harry glanced in back of them as he heard Voldemort's voice and the sounds of a duel start.

He followed Zippy into the nursery. It was far different than in the present – a single door led in to a normal sized bedroom (either the room had been magically expanded or walls knocked out to make for the huge suite that Harold now resided in). The walls were covered with Quidditch themed wallpaper, and cozy toys filled the shelves and floor. Baby Harold lay sleeping in the crib, blissfully unaware.

Past Zippy glanced into the crib and then stood against the wall with a determined look on his face. He started to weave his fingers in an intricate pattern – spell casting of some sort Harry realized. The door burst open and Lily ran into the room eyes wide in panic and fear. She looked right past Zippy as if he wasn't there.

"Harry darling!" she bent over the crib and started to lift the toddler, tears leaking down her face. Again the door blew open with an explosive force, and Harry watched, stressed and fascinated at the same time, as Voldemort strode in, robes billowing and face hateful and sneering.

"Give me the boy" he glared at Lily Potter, who swiftly set Harold back in the crib, whipped out her wand and screamed "expelliarmus" in reply.

With a dry chuckle he deflected the spell with a gesture and stunned the witch who was tearfully begging for her son's life. "Now, Harry Potter, lets see what you can do" he laughed at the baby who was standing in his crib, screaming his youthful lungs out. It was far different from the sentient baby in the mural in present day Harold's room.

"The only reason you can see what is happening next is because this is my memory" Zippy broke in while Voldemort was cruelly laughing at the distressed child in the crib. "You are experiencing elf-vision for a bit."

To Harry's astonishment babies started to appear in the nursery. Babies of all nationalities and species – wizard babies black, red, yellow and white. Centaur babies, elf babies, giants, and merfolk. There were even magical creature babies – unicorns, griffins, thestral, dragons and more. The children, aged from new born to young toddlers, filled the room, surrounding Harry's crib and Voldemort. The only thing the babies seemed to have in common, besides age, was green eyes. Startling emerald green eyes like his own. Both baby Harold and Voldemort seemed oblivious to the crowd as they looked at each other – one with fear, the other with malevolence.

The babies were all watching Voldemort, and slowly starting to raise their hands toward him. Zippy tugged Harry's sleeve and gestured to his past self, who was watching the children and echoing their movements with his own. Centaur, elf, human – they all wore very adult expressions of determination and anger toward the Dark Lord as they appeared to be casting some sort of shield around baby Harold.

"Well child, time to say good bye" Voldemort sneered at the squalling boy. "First you, then Mr. Longbottom. No child 'born when the summer's moon is waning' is going to spoil my plans." He raised his wand and spoke the forbidden words just as the invisible babies thrust out their hands in unison. The sickly green spell of death sped toward Harold, abruptly stopped and bounced back to Voldemort, striking and evaporating the man in a swift blow. The empty robe and wand fell to the ground next to the unconscious Lily Potter, as baby Harold screamed even louder, rubbing his bloody forehead with his chubby fist.

The scores of children lowered their hand and the shield disappeared. They all yawned, blinked emerald eyes, and made various other innocent baby gestures, as if totally oblivious to what they had just accomplished. Slowly, they faded from sight and Past Zippy slumped to the floor exhausted.

Dumbledore ran through the nursery's open door and bent over Lily. "This is where we can leave" Zippy told Harry, and they found themselves abruptly back at Grimmauld Place.

Harry sat back abruptly from the pensieve, and noticed Sirius' look of concern and curiosity out of the corner of his eye.

"Who were all those kids, Zippy?" he shot out, head still reeling from what he saw. "Were they there in my world too?"

A slow tear dripped down the house-elf's cheek as he gazed at The-Boy-Who-Lived. "Those are the innocents, Master Harry. They are the Harry Potters that Tom Riddle robbed of life in other worlds. The innocents you saw gather when a Harry Potter is attacked and shield him, because you, Master Harry, are their champion. You are they. When you vanquish the first Dark Lord and all universes are stable, they will have their peace. Until that time, they wait and they help as they can when I call them. I serve you, Master Harry, in all worlds."

"If they can do that, how did _they_ die in the first place?" the young wizard asked.

The elf smiled sadly. "Many Harry Potters died until there were enough of you to band together and protect."

"So many babies. So many of me." Harry muttered, stunned. "What if I fail?"

Zippy gave a kind smile and patted him arm. "You do not understand time – few humans do, Master Harry. At this moment you _have_ defeated him, you _will_ defeat him, you have died, you have just been born. Do you not find it strange you can leave one world at the end of your fifth year, to enter another at the same point in time? All things are happening at once in all worlds."

"Then you can tell him how to defeat Voldemort!" Sirius broke in excitedly. "I mean, it's already happened, right?"

The elf shook his head with sorrow at the two hopeful wizards. "I'm sorry, Master Harry. Just as every Harry Potter is a little different, so is every Dark Lord. Fate has deemed it a personal battle between the two of you, and for that reason you must find what power you need to defeat him yourself."

"_If_ I can defeat him" Harry growled dejectedly. "There are no guarantees I will succeed – that's obvious from the number of Harry Potters that make up the innocents."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry stood before the gargoyle that hid the steps to Dumbledore's office. Although he knew the password, he hesitated before calling it out.

It was a week before the school year started, and Harry felt more than a little nostalgic as he glanced around the empty hallway. Hogwarts still felt like home to him – no matter which world he was in. He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get to return to his home and defeat 'his' Voldemort. How were his traitorous friends? How about Remus? What was 'his' Dumbledore doing right this moment?

He had Snape, Remus and Sirius' assurances that this Albus Dumbledore was a warrior for the light in more than just name. Not once had he heard comments like 'well, we don't understand, but we trust him' or 'he must be right – he can see the big picture, Harry'.

A lone figure strode down the hall, coming in Harry's direction. With a wave of nausea he recognized the slicked blond hair of Draco Malfoy. "Just what I need" he muttered to himself. But to Harry's immense surprise, the young Malfoy merely nodded at him with a polite, disinterested "Potter" and continued on his way. Evidently this world was missing the tense rivalry between the two young wizards. With an unconscious shrug, Harry spoke the sugary password and hopped onto the revolving steps.

"Ah, Harry my boy. Please come in."

Harry grimaced at the familiar voice. It didn't help that everyone vouched for the man – the last time he had heard Albus' voice, it was calling for his death. But the Boy-Who-Lived squared his shoulders and strode through the door, glancing around at the familiar artifacts and gizmos. At least he had never rampaged through _this_ office.

"Please – have a seat" the ancient wizard gestured from across the large disorganized desk. "Lemon drop?"

Harry heard a loud buzzing in his ears, and the room spun.

"Breathe, my boy!" He could faintly hear the headmaster shouting in alarm, and heard the scraping of a chair against the stone floor as the mugwump jumped to his feet to assist. With extreme will and self-control, Harry forced his lungs to cooperate, and pushed the panic attack back to the dark recesses of his mind.

"It appears my mere presence can trigger adverse reactions" the headmaster observed sadly. "For what it is worth, I do apologize for my counterpart's behavior in your dimension. Rather upsetting to think I could be such a callous person in other worlds." Dumbledore poured tea for the two of them.

"I think I'll be fine if you would just move that bowl of lemon drops out of my sight" Harry winced, loathing his unexpected display of weakness.

The headmaster banished them swiftly with a wave of his hand. He sipped his tea and munched a biscuit while Harry watched the crumbs drop down the snowy white beard, and then vanish. Evidently the wizard had spelled his beard to automatically clean any debris. Finishing the first cup, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and twinkled softly at Harry.

"As you are aware" he started in, without preamble, "your godfather and family have been discussing with me your wish to defeat Tom Riddle. At first I was shaken to think that any Harry Potter would be so willing to kill, but I was relieved to find you did know the prophecy and what it seems to say."

With a soft sigh Harry looked down at the worn edge of the desk, not willing to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "I don't like the thought of killing, if that's what you're worried about" he replied, "but in my world Voldemort has tried to murder me four times already, and he killed my parents. You guys seem to have it nice and easy here, but he's made my world a shambles. I'll do what I have to do to restore peace."

"Yes, I understand" the headmaster smiled gently, pouring another cup of tea. "Most Harrys share your commendable attitude. The big question is 'can you kill our Voldemort without harming yourself?' You can not both exist at the same time according to the prophecy – at least not for any length of time – but how do we get around your link?"

"Most Harrys?" the boy yipped in surprise.

"Ah yes" Dumbledore smiled gently, leaning back in his chair and studying Harry. "You see, I don't belong in this dimension either. In fact, I have a habit of getting bored and traveling a bit. I was rather amazed when the proper Albus Dumbledore for this world, whom I found on his deathbed, pleaded for me to stay and complete his work. Seems that he was a bit of a seer and knew you'd be coming and need some help." He gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling, hands clasped over his long flowing beard. "So here you are, Mr. Potter. I am at your service."

"Does anyone belong here?" Harry squeaked. This was swiftly turning into a bad episode of The Twilight Zone.

The kind and twinkling blue eyes turned back to The-Boy-Who-Lived and crinkled with delight. Harry noted that there _was_ a world of world of difference between this Albus and his own. This one radiated sincerity that could not be faked, and despite his well-earned paranoia, he found himself relaxing a bit.

"As far as I am aware, Harry" the headmaster chuckled, "the only 'visitors' to this world are your godfather, yourself and myself". He gracefully stood and walked over to the fireplace, reaching for the floo powder on the mantle. "Potions lab" he called out in his amused voice.

Dumbledore turned and smiled at Harry. "I know you have been through a lot, my boy. Try to rest and eat properly – we will form a team to get you trained up and come up with a strategy for you. Take time to enjoy your godfather and parents. You are not alone in this."

Perhaps it was the calm sincerity this Dumbledore radiated. Maybe it was having his parents in some form to help. Having his beloved Godfather factored hugely. Whatever the case, Harry, for the first time in his life, truly trusted.


	8. The Bond Terminator

**Chapter 8 – The Bond Terminator**

Harry leaned back in the rustic wood chair. They were in the kitchen of Grimmauld place – Sirius, Remus, Severus, Albus, the Potters, Zippy and himself. The seven of them had been researching non-stop through the past 3 weeks. Well, non-stop except for the daily lessons Harry gave Harold in dueling, flying, and self-preservation.

"What have you and Remus come up with, Lily my dear?" the headmaster twinkled at the young red-haired witch. The way she opened a thick folder of parchments and plunked a few ancient books on the table they had gathered around reminded Harry painfully of Hermione. The betrayal of his friends still cut deeply.

Lily flashed a dazzling smile at the ancient mugwump. "Well Albus – we have some great news, and some sort of great news." She flipped open a book and everyone leaned forward. "According to his book we dug up here in Sirius' library, Harry's is not the first curse scar, although it is the first from an Avada Kedavra. To make a long story short, the connecting is only between the Voldemort and Harold Potter of this particular world. Harry here," and she gestured to the extremely interested teen, "can not be hurt in anyway by injuring or killing Voldemort, unless it's the Voldemort from his own world."

"But Harold _can_" Harry sputtered indignantly. There was no way he was going to sacrifice any version of himself for 'the greater good', no matter how much of a ponce he was.

"I'm getting to that dear" she smiled and blew him a motherly kiss across the table. Harry blushed a mortified crimson, but was secretly pleased by the display of affection. "Severus here has a solution, though it contains some risk."

All eyes turned to the potion's master, who cleared his throat and continued. "Yes. The book mentions a potion that we were able to find the recipe for in other manuscripts. This potion, 'the bond terminator', will sever the connection between Harold and Voldemort for a limited time, allowing Harold to destroy him with no harm to himself. There are problems, however."

"And those are?" Dumbledore prodded gently.

"The potion is a one-use thing. If taken more than once, it is extremely addictive and will kill the user in short time." Snape leaned forward and held Harry's gaze. "The dose is extremely small and would be easy to carry around on your person, or Harold's person, until the time to confront Voldemort. I can not say how long it lasts – my most educated guess would be around an hour."

Harry broke from Snape's penetrating eyes and let his focus wander while pondering what the potion master had come up with. "That should be long enough, Severus. I think I can get Harold in good enough shape to off the Dark Tosser by the end of the summer. He's actually coming along pretty well. Besides, I can get Voldemort mostly dead and Harold simply has to finish the job. From what we gather, Harry Potters have to be the one to kill Voldemorts in every dimension or his soul is free to come back. It's our bond that allows us to do the job permanently."

James cleared his throat. "Then why wasn't Voldemort permanently killed the first time, when you were a baby?"

Sirius, drumming his fingers on the table, answered for him. "If baby Harold had cast the killing curse, it might have. We now know from Zippy here the strange reason he was protected as a child." Everyone nodded in agreement – Harry and Sirius had shared the information. "Since it was only a rebounded curse that hit Voldy, it only knocked his soul out of his body and didn't do the complete job."

"There is another problem with the potion," Snape interrupted before the conversation wandered down another path. Everyone quieted down and gave him their attention. "The potion requires basilisk venom. The last known basilisk was killed over 200 years ago, so this is a major obstacle."

Harry snorted, drawing attention to him self. "What? What about the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets? There should be some venom left in its fangs."

"Er, what Basilisk, Harry? And for that matter, what Chamber?" Dumbledore and everyone were gaping at Harry like he had two heads. Sirius and Harry were taking turns gawking at each other and the rest of the group.

"Um, what happened in Harold's second year? Hello? Tom set his basilisk loose – that was what was petrifying everyone. I realize Harold didn't deal with it – I killed the one in my world – but I assumed you had taken care of it, Headmaster." Harry squinted at Dumbledore trying to read his face.

"How did a basilisk petrify and not kill everyone?" Remus asked with amazement.

"None of the victims had looked at it directly," Harry explained. "They saw the snake's reflection in water, through a camera lens, etc."

"Ah, well that answers a few questions" the wizard mused. "No, Harry. We didn't know what was causing the problems. We simply assumed that some rouge Slytherins were pranking, as there were no fatalities and it was centered on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. When things got carried away and Miss Weasley disappeared, Fawkes simply found her and flashed her to my office. That seemed to end the matter. We assumed the perpetrators grew wary and quit." He gave Harry a piercing look. "Do you mean to tell me there really is a chamber, and it houses a basilisk?"

Harry swore under his breath. "Well, what did Ginny say about where she had been?"

Snape, with a barely contained glint of amusement, replied "we thought she was hysterical and creating a story to avoid telling her parents she was breaking rules. I'm afraid that I, for one, didn't pay her story any mind."

Still cussing, Harry gave the group a quick run down of the Chamber and what happened in his dimension. "I would imagine," he concluded, "that as a parseltongue I could go down there and simply ask the snake for some venom."

A flurry of discussion started and it was agreed that the next day would be perfect for a team to enter the chamber and attempt to reason with the giant reptile.

"How is Harold's training coming?" Remus gently asked, starting a new subject.

With superior self-control, Harry kept himself from wincing, rolling his eyes, or hurting himself. "Much better, Remus. I've got him up to a 4th level in dueling, and he's able to fly passably now. He almost enjoys it, to be honest. If you could get Madame Pomfrey to measure, I'd be willing to bet his magical core has increased quite a bit in the past few weeks."

Lily and James were beaming, about to bust open with pride.

"How can a 15 year old increase their core so quickly? It's too early for their adult growth spurt!" Remus asked, shaking his head with disbelief.

"Ah, well Remus" Dumbledore smiled. "It would seem that Harold simply needed to be pushed a bit, and he's going through the magical growth that most children experience at 11. And it's very possible that somehow Harry here is 'rubbing off on him' magically, so to say."

The meeting dragged on for another couple hours. When all was said and done, it was decided that Harry would continue to train Harold, with the help of Remus and Sirius, and confront Voldemort by the end of summer. Both Harry and Harold would carry a dose of the bond terminator potion on themselves at all times, in case an opportunity showed up.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Go on, Harold. You can do it." Harry was coaxing his twin in the parlor of Grimmauld Place. A week had passed since the meeting. They had gone to the Chamber of Secrets, where Harry quickly made friends with the basilisk, who willingly donated several vials of venom. Dumbledore was thrilled to explore a hitherto unknown area of the school, and Remus was sent to smooth things over with the Weasleys – Ginny in particular – for not believing her in the first place. Snape was in Heaven having a rare and priceless ingredient to play with.

Harold was waving his wand, his handsome face screwed up in concentration. A pop was heard and rough ceramic tea pot with boiling water appeared on the table next to them.

"Very good, Harold!" Harry yelled with a high five. "Creating forms from nothing is really hard – you did fantastic!"

Harold looked ruefully at the teapot, plinking it with his manicured nail. "I was going for a silver tea pot, with cups and biscuits. And I wanted tea – not water!"

"It was your first attempt, mate!" Harry thumped him on the back. "Zippy, do you have a tea bag handy?" Zippy grinned and snapped his fingers. Soon Harold's new creation was containing tea. "You've got to feel great about this, Harold. This is NEWT level work here – you learn amazingly fast when you are inspired."

Harold beamed. "I could hardly change a hedgehog into a pincushion two months ago" he agreed, taking a sip of 'his' tea. "But where does it come from? What do we make conjured stuff out of?"

Harry gaped at him. Where did conjured stuff come from? Why hadn't he ever thought about that before?

The house elf looked at the two boys with wonderment. "They never taught you at Hogwarts about the Great Scrapheap?" he gasped in his high squeaky voice. The look of incomprehension mirrored in their faces gave him the answer.

"The Great Scrapheap?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Masters Harry, where does the stuff go that you banish, clean, and disappear?" Zippy asked them.

Harold and Harry looked at each other with matching bewilderment. "We don't know," they answered in twin speak.

"Perhaps I can help" a voice came from the doorway. The Potter boys spun around in unison to see the headmaster smiling with pride at them. "We intentionally leave the Great Scrapheap out of our education, Zippy. Think what that would do to the economy."

The elf gave a wink and a snicker as he got up to get another serving of tea and treats for the new guest.

"The Great Scrapheap is yet another dimension, boys." Dumbledore eased himself down to the table and brightened when he saw a fresh lemon tart placed in front of him by the grinning elf. "Evanesco, among other spells, banishes items. But where do they go? One cannot simply unmake matter – the universe does not work that way. Evanesco'd items are simply moved to this alternate dimension, what we fondly refer to as The Great Scrapheap. There items are broken down to their molecular matter, sorted, and called upon when magical beings such as you and I wish to conjure an item." The headmaster sat back contentedly, munching the tart and sipping his tea.

The Harrys turned green and gasped at each other. "Eeeeewwwww!" they both moaned.

"What?" Dumbledore asked innocently. Zippy hid his smile behind his hand.

"Are you telling me, Headmaster" Harry choked out, "that if I banish some poo it's broken down into basic proteins and stuff, and might come back as the biscuits we just ate?" Harold nodded emphatically in agreement, clutching his stomach.

The headmaster raised an eyebrow and tapped the side of his nose thoughtfully. "Well, yes, I suppose you could look at it that way." He paused to take another cookie and take a huge bite out of it. "But that is rather over simplifying it. Your basic sugars, proteins, matters are all quite sterile – it would not make you sick, and the matters are combined to make real biscuits, not temporary ghosts of such."

"Oh, well _that_ makes it better" Harold drawled sarcastically. Harry snorted in agreement.

"So how come we aren't taught this? I for one might never conjure something edible again. Good grief – that chair you are sitting on might have been Malfoy's soiled underwear!" Harry sputtered.

"As I told Zippy" Dumbledore beamed at the boys, "think of the economy. If a wizard is powerful enough, they could conjure just about everything they ever needed. No more groceries, no more restaurants, no more apothecaries." The headmaster was pleased to see the dawning of realization in the boy's faces. "Yes, business would crumble, and dare I say? Society would be in turmoil. Thankfully, few have your level of magical strength, Harry and Harold."

"Headmaster, I'm nothing. I'm barely above a squib" Harold blushed, looking down at his feet.

"Nonsense, Harold" Dumbledore clapped him on the back firmly. "Your level has increased at a phenomenal rate these past few weeks. Working with Harry here has unlocked something that was holding you back. You will be quite the wizard, my boy."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dumbledore was right. It was a short two weeks before the start of school – Harold's 6th year at Hogwarts – and Harold was now just about Harry's equal in dueling, transfiguration and mere magical power. When it came to flying, charms of a non-dueling nature, and potions, the lad was still quite abysmal, but he had many years of not being pushed to make up for. The young man had blossomed that summer into something far stronger, kinder, and more thoughtful than the boy he was in the spring.

"So" Harry started while sharing a couple butterbeers in the Potter's back garden with Harold, "what say we take care of your Riddle problem today?"

Harold took a swig and smirked, 'knowing' that Harry was pulling his leg. He glanced over and noticed his 'twin' was looking quite serious. "You're joking!" he weakly gasped.

"Naw – not at all" Harry shrugged calmly. "I've already scoped out Little Hangleton and Riddle Manor. I guess our bond overrides his wards. All we have to do is apparate over, make sure he's alone, you take your potion and I'll do most of the work." Harry smiled a feral grin at Harold. "All you have to do is keep out of the way and be ready to drop the final blow. I've got a lovely idea for it that will keep your hands and robes clean, and not leave any embarrassing unforgivable's on your wand's memory."

Harold was sitting upright, tense and pale, but he didn't argue. With a deep breath he sighed, "All right Harry. You're right. I'm not going to be more prepared than I am now."

Harry jumped to his feet and clapped him on the back. "Way to go, bro. Let's zip over now after you put on some dragon hide, before you can talk yourself out of this." With their arms around each other's shoulders they ambled up the stairs to Harold's room to don some armor, looking for all the world to the Potters like a pair of teens heading off to a chess game or some other innocent pass time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Author Notes: I see there is some confusion in the reviews. Without giving away too much, the story does not start and end in Harold's dimension. Harold is the first of many Harry Potters we will meet – once his 'Voldy problem' has been 'taken care of', our Harry will journey on. Each world visited will be explored in a few chapters – some more, some less. _


	9. Thank You, Acme Inc

**Chapter Nine – Thank You, Acme Inc.**

It was 11:00 in the morning when the two Harry's arrived in the Riddle graveyard. Harold shivered as he looked over the scene. Despite the fact he had been obilivated, memories are deeply tangled in the unorganized mind, and the sense of dread, fear, and overall badness remained. He glanced over at Harry, and was grateful to see he looked just as pale and tense. They crouched down behind a large headstone and Harold whispered "what now?"

Harry surveyed the large home in front of them with a grim smile. "Remus and Sirius have been keeping an eye on this place for a month now. Dear 'ol Tom lives here with Peter, and has daily meetings with his top Death Munchers every day at two. Like clockwork." His face grew more steely and amused. "By the lights in the windows, our godfathers assure me that he does _everything_ like clockwork…"

"What do you mean…" Harold started to sputter, but was grabbed by the hand and led to the front door. Glancing around quickly, Harry whispered a simple 'Alohomora' and unlocked the door. This Tom really was a puss.

The house was quiet as a tomb. Harold shivered, the comparison and irony not being lost on him. They glanced around the foyer listening for a bit before moving on.

"_Who goesssss there?"_ a snakey voice hissed. The two Potters jumped and looked down. Nagini had crept up without them noticing – although large, she was very dark and very quiet.

"_Nagini, you have a choissssse"_ Harry hissed quietly at the snake. _"Your massster is deadmeat. Leave now in peassssse, or become our prey."_ Nagini stared at them with her lidless eyes for a moment, then glided past well out of striking range and out the front door. In this universe Nagini was obviously a puss too.

"How did Voldemort teach his snake to speak English?" Harold whispered to Harry in wonderment.

Harry rolled his eyes. "We're both parseltounges, moron" he whispered back. "Come on – follow me.

Up the dusty stairs they gently crept, grateful for the silencing charms previously cast on their feet. A long hallway was before them, and Harry led them to a door on the right. Opening it, they snuck quietly in side. Harold was shocked to find they were in a bathroom. Harry cast more silencing charms and smirked at his twin.

"I didn't think you needed my help in the loo, Harry," he muttered.

"Prat" Harry laughed and cuffed him across the head. "They stay up late every night – talking about their plans for taking over the world I guess. They sleep in until noon or so. Where do most folks go when they first wake up?"

Understanding dawned on the boy's face. "Ahhh! You usually don't ward a room for privacy or traps until you are in it!"

"Righto!" Harry grinned. "I'll bet their bedrooms are quite the mine field of booby traps. And I'm pretty sure that 'ol Tom has first dibs on the loo every morning! Let him come to us!" He checked his watch and gestured to the small vial hanging from a chain around Harold's neck. "Time to drink up, mate."

"Bottoms up" Harold quipped, uncorked the vial, and drank it quickly. "Are you sure this is right, Harry?" he whispered with frantic worry.

"Why?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked concerned.

"It tastes good! Sort of like chamomile and vanilla" Harold said worriedly. "I've never heard of one of Snape's potions tasting any better than paint thinner."

Harry grinned. "I helped brew it. Those _are_ two major ingredients in the potion. Is your throat feeling a little tingly at this point?"

"Why yes it is!" Harold nodded with concern.

"That's the basilisk venom. You're ok – nobody switched it with a soft drink or anything." Harry suddenly placed a hand on Harold arm and pushed him into the tub with his finger on his lips in warning, following right behind him. Harold held his breath as he saw the bathroom brighten from the door opening.

Tom Riddle, aka The Dark Lord Voldemort, strode into the water closet, yawning and bleary-eyed. His hair was mussed and his red eyes mostly shut. He was wearing an old t-shirt with several holes and stains and a pair of flannel boxer shorts that had "Who's your Daddy?" printed across the back. Harry really wanted to gouge his eyes out after seeing that. Instead, as the evil overlord started to face the 'throne', not even noticing the two teens in the bathtub, Harry swiftly conjured a gigantic anvil, a good six-foot long, above Tom's head. He gestured at the rope tethering the anvil to Harold, who grinned ear to ear.

Riddle never stood a chance. Much to both the Potter boy's relief, the Dork Lord never even got his boxer's open before Harold cried out "Diffindo!" slashing the rope, and dropping the anvil down on Voldemort's head. A wet 'squelch' and the evil wizard was no more.

"I did it!" Harold gasped in disbelief, gawking with nausea at the slowly spreading red puddle leaking from under the huge anvil. He rubbed his scar, which was tingling almost to the point of pain, but fading quickly.

"Yah – you and Acme Incorporated" Harry snickered. Harold gave him a strange look, but proceeded to temporarily banish the puddle that was once Tom Riddle, along with the anvil. Once the room was clean Harry tiptoed out of the shower, and swiftly opened and shut the bathroom door. "That should bring Wormtail" he snickered.

And bring Wormtail it did – the rodent-like man heard the door to the loo open and shut, and knew it was his turn at last. What it was his turn for, however, he didn't have a clue. The moment the traitor opened the bathroom door, twin sons of Marauders hit him with simultaneous 'stupefy's' and bound him with magical ropes. Dragging Pettegrew's unconscious body out of the room, they swiftly restored the awful puddle of goo that was once the Dark Lord (minus the anvil) pocketed his wand as a souvenir, and apparated back to Potter Manor, prisoner in tow.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry and Harold appeared back home and presented Peter to James, Sirius and Remus. They had even gift-wrapped the rat, adding a nice large bow to the conjured ropes before arriving. The pair shared their morning's adventures with Dumbledore, the order, and aurors who immediately apparated to Little Hangleton to confirm the remains in the upstairs bath. Harry was careful to give all the credit to Harold – after all, he was the one that was staying and hopefully going to influence a better magical world when he was of age.

It was a wild party for the rest of the week. Harold gave many speeches to the press, the crowds, and Witch Weekly Magazine. Although Riddle was never really a threat to this universe, people do love a reason to celebrate. Harry stayed well out of sight – he didn't want the public to know there were two Harry Potters present. He had some serious choices to make and wanted some privacy anyway.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The last week was bittersweet. Harry knew it was time to move on – time to do more 'training' on other Voldemorts. He spent a lot of time just enjoying Sirius' and his parent's company. But it wasn't all relaxing – Harry had a serious bit of Marauder tradition to uphold.

"So what is this again?" Harold sniffed the glass flask Harry set before him, his lip daintily curling at the acrid smell.

"Amimagus Transformation Potion" Harry nodded with satisfaction, stroking Hedwig's back as he spoke. He brought out another flask and picked it up. "The Marauders did it the hard way – took 'em three years. Snape brewed this for us – forces your first transformation, if you have one. Then you can do it yourself after that."

"You're doing it too?" Harold asked weakly, knowing Harry wouldn't let him back out. "I seriously doubt I even have a form. You know what a squib I was."

"You worry too much, mate. You are the Boy-Who-Triumphed. I didn't do anything you couldn't have." Harry pushed Hedwig off his arm and onto the chair, raised his flask and clicked it against its twin in Harold's trembling hand. "Cheers!"

They choked down the bitter fluid. "Gak!" Harold sputtered. "Now _that_ tastes like something Snape would brew." Harry grimaced in agreement. They dropped the little bottles in unison and fell off their chairs with grunts of pain.

Bones cracked and reshaped, organs moved, instincts changed accordingly. Ten long, painful minutes later Harry sat up, blinked a few times and looked around. Well, he was certainly shorter as an animal. He stretched out an arm to look at it. It was a wing! With a couple of awkward flaps he flew up to the mantel and gazed in a mirror at himself, noticing that Hedwig looked very pleased from her perch on the chair.

A handsome eagle returned his gaze. _'That's me? How cool!'_ Harry thought. Zippy, who had been standing by in case of emergency, snapped a few photos as he preened and admired himself in the mirror. He was an eagle of some sort, with feathers of deepest brown and black, with a sharp dangerous beak and green penetrating eyes. Harry was amused to see his lightening bolt scar was clearly visible, formed out of white feathers. The rest of his head was topped with an amazing mess of spiked feathers as sloppy as his real hair.

When Harry was through with his examination, he turned and looked for Harold. A quick movement grabbed his attention, and without thinking he started to pounce on a mouse scampering across the carpet, only to be stopped by Zippy.

"No, no Master Harry" the elf chuckled. "We can't have you eating Master Harold now, can we?"

Harry and Harold both transformed back to their human forms, partially out of shock, but mostly from embarrassment. "Er, sorry about that, mate" Harry stammered, face glowing red. "Guess the instincts are sort of strong".

"No problem" Harold muttered, glowing a matching crimson. "At least I do have an animagus form. I suppose it will be dead useful for spying on the girls. And a mouse is better than a rat, at least."

They shared a good laugh, though Harry was intensely relived he had a cool form for himself. He would have never lived down a mouse. Hedwig ruffled her feathers in an owl equivalent of a belly laugh. Zippy brought over a book on birds and thumbed through, comparing the photo of him self with the images in the book.

"Hmmm – I'm a Long-crested Eagle, _Lophaetus occipitalis_. From Africa. Except for the green eyes – those are pure Potter. Well, Evans I guess." Harry read up on the bird swelling with pride. He couldn't wait to fly without a broom.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Where are you going, Harry?" Harold walked into his twin's bedroom in Grimmauld Place to say his farewells before heading to the train station for the start of term. Harry was carefully folding clothes as Zippy packed his trunk. He looked up with a warm smile.

"Time for me to move on, mate" he spoke softly.

"Move on? Where? Why?" Harold sputtered, shocked and shaken. "Voldemort's dead! You can stay here with us in safety and have a nice normal life!"

Harry shook his head sadly. "It's tempting, but I can't" he murmured. "I still have a destiny. You have fulfilled yours, and you have a great future. You really are a powerful wizard, Harold. Study hard and don't take anything for granted – the wizarding world needs you."

"But why leave, Harry?" Tears were falling down his cheeks unashamedly. "Where are you going?"

"Dumbledore and Zippy have created a way for me to travel to new dimensions by wearing this amulet." Harry pulled on a chain around his neck and showed Harold a disk, pewter looking, with many engraved runes on it. "Zippy has chosen my next world, where another Harry Potter needs help in dealing with another Voldemort. Each Dark Lord I help off will train and strengthen me. Hopefully I'll end up in my own world eventually, and open a can of whoop-butt on _my_ Voldy." He placed the last shirt in his trunk, shut the lid and shrunk it down to pocked-size, and held out his arm. Hedwig flew across the room and landed on him.

"But what about Sirius? You know how he will miss you!" Harold wiped his eyes with a dainty handkerchief, carefully avoiding his hair. War hero or not, some things never change.

"I'll miss him too" Harry smiled, and impishly reached over and mussed his twin's hair. He had wanted to do that all summer. "And I'll miss you, Harold. But it helps to know that you are both ok here in this world. Perhaps I'll return someday."

Harry patted the pockets of his robe, making sure his wand was handy. Several vials of bond terminator potion were on the chain with the dimension-hopping amulet around his neck, in case his trunk and he didn't make the journey together.

"I owe you Harry. I hope someday, somehow I can pay my debt to you". Harry shook his hand and turned toward his parents. Harry gave Harold Potter – The-Boy-With-Perfect-Hair a rueful smile and last manly hug and watched him walk out the front door with Mother and Father to catch the Hogwarts Express.

"Are you really leaving, cub?" Sirius gazed at his Godson with suspiciously shiny eyes. Alone in the front hall, Harry fought back the tears. He lost Sirius once, and now he was willingly leaving him. His Godfather held him close, crying without shame.

Harry broke away, trembling. "I have to, Padfoot. When this is all over with we can decide where we want to settle, if that's ok with you." He gazed at Sirius, drinking in all the details of his face and committing them to memory. "With this amulet and Zippy, I'll be back. But I want to return when I can stay and not have my Voldemort hanging over my head."

Remus, Severus, Dumbledore and Zippy were gathered in the parlor, having just given their heart-felt good wishes to Harold. Sirius and Harry joined them, and silently Harry hugged each of the men in turn, unable to speak.

"You will find me when you need me, Master Harry" Zippy smiled proudly at the young man. "But you will find you don't need me as much as you might think".

With that enigmatic comment, Harry Potter touched the amulet and faded away to his next adventure.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Author Notes:__ Thank you for all the reviews! I'm flattered! _

_And so we say good bye to Harold. Will Harry return to Sirius and Harold? You really don't think I'd tell, do you? Harry will be busy, have no worries. So far I have 45 chapters planned, about 4 more ready for posting. But as folks give me ideas and OrionTheHunter sends me his, the story could end up much longer._

_None of these worlds will be very deep or extremely detailed. As with Harold, you will get a taste of each universe, get to meet and love some people, despise others. Harry will grow with each encounter, and move on._

_**Vrammler**__ – I tried to answer your pm, but the e-mail didn't go through. I'd love to see your ideas, and would give you all credit for any I use._

_Yes, the __**Long-crested Eagle**__ is a real bird – his head of messy feathers looks like Harry! Do a google image search and see what they look like. And yes, even after my Manipulator of Destiny, I can give Harry a cool animagus form…that is still a sore point with many readers – hee!_


	10. The Other Prisoner of Azkaban

**Chapter 10 – The Other Prisoner of Azkaban**

Harry visited several worlds in quick succession after Harold's universe. One world had a Harry willingly sorted into Slytherin, one had a Harry that had been raised by Sirius, and another had a Harry that had run away before Hogwarts and needed a home and training. Ron and Hermione didn't really factor into any of these worlds, and Ginny was a drooling money-crazed fan girl in two of them. Dumbledore was a jerk on all three. There wasn't much challenging about their Voldemorts, who were each marginally stronger than Harold's had been. There wasn't much worth remembering about the experiences they gave. Harry left the last one with a smile and a wave, thankful for learning more advanced conjuring, but not overly concerned about the Harrys in them. The last guy was only six months from adulthood – showing him Potter Manor and Gringotts gave him the start he needed. Harry touched his portal-opening amulet and was off.

When the world stopped spinning, Harry found himself standing on the rocky shore of a small island in the dead of night. In front of him was a tall obsidian castle hewn out of the blackest stone he had ever seen. The wind was sharp and cold and the whole island had the feeling of death and despair.

"Azkaban" Harry whispered out loud. Was this Harry in jail then? He laid his wand in his flattened palm and incanted _'point me Harry Potter'. _The wand snapped toward himself, and then lazily spun and pointed to the castle, up at window in an isolated tower. Hedwig was missing, soHarry scanned the night sky hoping for a glimpse of his snowy friend, but came up empty.

Pocketing his wand he glanced around to insure he was alone and unseen. Morphing into his crested eagle form, he flew one lap around the island to assure himself he wasn't being watched, then headed for the only window marring the smooth rock of the eastern tower.

Sharp claws hooked on the barred window sill and eagle Harry took a good minute to adjust to the light inside. It was a half round room, the flat wall consisting of stone and a large iron-barred door. A smoky torch outside the door cast feeble light inside the cell, and Harry could make out his 'twin' sitting on a filthy straw pallet leaning against the cold stone wall and watching him with glowing green eyes.

"Hello you handsome bird. That's quite a head of feathers you have" the prisoner spoke softly.

Harry cocked his head and examined the boy. _'I wonder if I land in front of him will he try to eat me'_ he pondered. But he decided to take the risk, and squeezed between the bars and landed on the floor a few feet from his twin. The boy was even skinnier than the Dursleys had ever left him, with open sores dotting his arms and legs, which stuck out of a thin shredded robe. He made no move toward the eagle but watched with intensity.

"Do you carry a letter for me?" he finally asked the bird. "This place is warded against owls, but perhaps you have been recruited to deliver a message?"

Harry changed back to his human form. "No – but I do have the means to get you out of here" he chuckled. His twin simply gaped in open-mouthed astonishment.

"Well – this is different. Am I cracking up?" the boy sputtered after a bit.

"I dunno – how long have you been here?" Harry asked while conjuring a meal for the starving prisoner. "Here – eat this slowly."

Greedily, shakily the boy grabbed the tray of conjured soup and bread and eagerly slurped it down. Finally he wiped his mouth on his arm and shrugged "about a year I think".

"What did you do to get in here?" Harry asked him, conjuring a pair of comfortable chairs, which they both sat in.

"I trusted my friends" he replied with bitterness. "So who are you – a polyjuiced auror looking for an excuse to kill me, or me from an alternate universe?"

"Wow – you're smarter than I'd be in your situation" Harry nodded with approval. "I'm from another universe. Seriously – what are you doing in this four-star establishment?"

With a sigh the too-skinny boy leaned back in the comfortable overstuffed chair, unconsciously rubbing his belly. "Early fifth year I return to the common room after flying my broom for a bit – trying to clear my mind, you know?" Harry nodded for him to continue. "Aurors are waiting for me – claim that I was seen strangling Ginny Weasley on the grounds in front of Hagrid's cabin. Ginny is dead, I claim I'm innocent, nobody will believe me."

"Why would anyone think Harry Potter is stupid enough to kill someone in front of witnesses out in the open?" Harry gaped at his ragged counterpart.

"Don't ask me" the boy rolled his eyes. "Gin and I were going out – why would I want to throttle her in the first place? And what is it with this ministry and not liking to use veritaserum. Anyway, everyone thinks I'm scum now – the Weasleys, Hermione, Dumbledore, Hogwarts… because of my age I'm here for life. Which won't be long, seeing how the dementors affect me and how well I'm fed."

Harry snorted. "I can think of many reasons to wrap my fingers around the little red tart's throat, but I've met a lot of Ginnys in the past year. Most of them are less than desirable." He looked out the barred door. "How often do the guards come to visit?"

The prisoner shrugged. "Not often. Food is delivered by dementors. I've seen maybe three people since I've been here."

"Good" Harry quipped. "Hang tight – I'll be back in a second." He turned back into his eagle form and squeezed out the door into the hall. It was a small room – the other half-round of the tower- with stairs leading up and down. Harry flew down the stairs to see where they went.

A short time later he returned to his filthy twin and squeezed back through the bars.

"Have fun?" he dryly asked.

"Oh yah" Harry quipped. "The stairs go down to three more cells, all of which are empty. The bottom level has the door to the rest of this fine establishment. I warded the door so it will chime up here so we will know if you have company."

The boy raised an eyebrow but didn't ask any questions. He watched him with silent intensity as Harry pulled his shrunken trunk out of his pocket and enlarged it. Then he disillusioned it so it was invisible against the dark, dank corner of the cell. Opening the lid he gestured down the stairs and chirped "after you."

"You trust me? The dangerous Dark Lord Potter?" he sputtered with disbelief.

"Sure" Harry shrugged. "I put veritaserum in your soup." The two walked down the stairs and shut the trunk door. "OK, HJ – here's the guest room, and here's the bathroom. Leave your dirty rags right on the floor – we need them handy for the few times you need to make an appearance above. Here are some clean robes" he smiled, handing him a folded stack of clothing.

"HJ?" the boy asked with amusement as he gazed hungrily at the tub.

"Sure – HJ for Harry James. I'm Harry – you're HJ" Harry smirked at him. "I'll get your bed warmed and ready and get your potion regime handy."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

HJ gratefully soaked in the tub a good hour, then showered for good measure. He shared another light meal with Harry, and drank down many potions for malnutrition, strength, and general healing. Clean clothes, clean and healed skin and full stomach, HJ felt like a new person.

"So why are we staying here?" HJ asked him with curiosity as they sat in the parlor savoring tea by the trunk's flickering torchlight. "Why not run away – out of the country or something?"

Harry shrugged while gazing into space. "You're innocent, HJ. If you run you will have to spend your whole life with glamour charms and looking over your shoulder. Someone, at some point, will recognize you and kill you or bring you back. We will stay here, train you hard and I'll find the real criminal so you can be a free man again."

The boy cradled the cup in his two hands, sniffing deeply the perfume of the Earl Gray tea. He had missed such a simple beverage so deeply. "I don't know if I want to stay in England if they let me go" he sighed.

"Can't say that I blame you, but you do have a bit of a duty to fulfill before you disappear" Harry shrugged casually. "There's a prophecy – Harry Potter is the only one who can kill Voldy. I have the potion you need to take before doing so to break your link. Otherwise if he dies, so do you."

HJ raised an eyebrow. "So that's why Dumbledore was so vehement about locking me up here. Convinced the whole wizengamot not to 'waste' the veritaserum on me. I die a quick and painful death in prison and their Voldy problem is solved."

"Probably" Harry agreed. "But if Dumbles knows about your link, there's always a good chance Voldy does too. We have to make sure he doesn't break you out or imprison you himself."

The boy sipped the tea, looking at nothing in particular. "So why do I care if Voldemort takes over? Can you really say they don't deserve it? Why are you in my dimension – you must be running from something yourself, Harry."

Harry eyed the boy shrewdly. "Yes I am, and so are most Harrys in most worlds. But when all the Voldemorts are gone, we will truly be free." He refreshed his tea and looked at HJ with a serious expression. "You don't owe the jerks anything, HJ. But there are plenty of innocent people – muggle and wizard – who don't deserve the terror they are going through."

"True" HJ agreed, though without the concern Harry felt so deeply. "So it sounds like you've seen a few Voldys – why don't you simply do it for me."

The green-eyed wizard snorted. "I could, but if you don't hang around and take the bond terminator potion at the right time, you are gonna die. And it's a one time thing that only lasts an hour." He leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Anyway, you will enjoy getting some real training. Magic is great when you aren't getting dumbed-down by the current Hogwarts curriculum."

The next few months saw Harry and HJ first concentrating on his healing. It was slow at first, helping the young wizard through his nightmares and getting his strength back up. Harry presented HJ with one of his Voldemort wands, which was completely compatible.

Once HJ was strong and healthy again they concentrated on physical training and dueling. Harry took off on occasion in his eagle form to check out the wizarding world. HJ had been correct – everyone was convinced Harry Potter was Death Eater scum and had murdered Ginny Weasley in plain sight of a whole school full of students. Wizards sure can be stupid sheep.

HJ was an interesting person. He was sharper and more intelligent than Harry, with a keen analytical mind. But on the flip side, he was far more bitter and cynical than Harry was – he hadn't been a very trusting person before the set up, and the betrayal had successfully removed what little faith in human goodness there had been in the boy.

Harry enjoyed flying with Hedwig during the outings, who was staying at the manor. Azkaban's wards prevented owls from entering the island's boundaries. Slowly, gradually, he found that in his bird form he could communicate with his beloved owl. The more they 'spoke' the clearer it became. There wasn't the ability to carry on a detailed conversation yet, but single words, simple commands and strong feelings were easy now.

Harry gave HJ the anamagus potion, and HJ was delighted to find he was a black panther, complete with a white lightning bolt in the fur on his forehead. Harry felt it was a little typical for a Harry, but it was cool. And like a panther, this world's Harry Potter was ill-tempered and volatile. Harry was attempting to convince him to stay put in jail while he found Ginny's murderer.

"I think it's stupid" HJ huffed, arms crossed angrily across his chest. "Once we find the murderer they will drop all charges – let me go with you now!"

"Will you be patient for once?" Harry whined at him. "Let's do this right. I'll check in once a week and let you know how it's going." With that the Boy-Who-Lived transformed into his eagle shape and flew out the window. _"Hedwig? Could you come here?"_ he called in his mind to his owl.

"_Coming, Dear Friend" _she replied, and in the distance Harry's sharp raptor eyes spied a glimmer of white wings heading his direction.

As she neared Harry explained the best he could _"Hedwig, please take me to Malfoy Manor." _Magical owls had the ability to find anyone, no matter what the wards were. Often wards were adapted to keep out owls (or people) with tracking charms on them, but no matter how secretive they might be, wizards needed their mail. With a blink of her yellow eyes the snowy owl veered and changed directions, leading Harry to his destination.

An hour of flying later and Harry found a good sturdy branch in a tree outside of Lucius Malfoy's private den. The room wasn't charmed for silencing since the grounds were so heavily warded against visitors. _'Idiot' _Harry thought smugly to himself as he listened in.

The eldest Malfoy was sitting behind a large desk, facing his son who was standing stiffly in front of him. "I expect you to keep your mouth shut tonight, Draco" he purred in his silky voice.

"Yes father" Draco replied, with the faintest touch of impatience tingeing his voice.

Lucius gave him a sharp look. "I'm serious, son. The Dark Lord isn't please with the heavy-handed way you handled that girl's murder. Goodness – Malfoys are supposed to be smart and _subtle_! In plain daylight in front of a whole castle of witnesses?" The man slammed a book down sharply to drive him point home. Draco winced at the loud sound.

"I'm _deadly_ serious, Draco" he put a meaningful emphasis on the second word. "If the ministry wasn't full of imbeciles they would never have fallen for it. Our Lord is just looking for an excuse to punish you. Watch yourself, because I can not help you."

"I don't see what the big deal is" the blond haired boy sulked. "As far as everyone is concerned Weasley is dead and Potter's a murderer. The job is done."

Harry almost squawked out loud, but caught himself. What did the ferret mean by that?

"_Every_ detail is important to the Dark Lord" Lucius glared at the boy. "If you expect to rule with him when he triumphs you had better perform more to his standards in the future."

When the men left the room Harry flew out of the tree calling for Hedwig. "Hey, my friend, lead the way to Tom Riddle." The two birds winged away from the manor, silent and unseen.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Author Notes: I hope that nobody is upset I didn't go into detail about the few worlds mentioned in the start of this chapter. Many other fan fiction authors have done those, and written them extremely well. I want to dwell on Harrys that are unique, or Harrys that inspire me. And yes, Azkaban Harry has been done to death – I'm just amazed that so few of them are ever finished!_


	11. Butting Heads

Chapter 11 - Butting Heads 

Harry was frankly amazed that Voldemort didn't exclude his hideout from owls. Oh he could feel the tingling of multiple additions in the wards – tracking charms, portkeys, and any magical additions to parchment were forbidden within the grounds of Riddle Manor. But owls were fine, so finding the Dark Lord was no problem.

Sadly, Riddle wasn't stupid enough to leave his rooms charmed against eavesdropping, and he didn't sit next to drafty windows chatting about his plans to take over the world. The Dark Lord's paranoia was not going to make it easy. Harry looked over at Hedwig and sent her a telepathic _"any ideas, girl?"_

"_Human coming" _the owl replied in her limited vocabulary. Harry looked where Hedwig was facing and sure enough, he could see the shimmer in the air of a wizard apparating in. The two birds ducked down behind the branches of the tree they were perched in and waited for the black-cloaked figure to come up the walk.

Harry felt his feathers on the back of his neck rise, not unlike the hackles on a mammal. Although the figure was robed and masked, he knew the build and posture under the Death Eater garb. "Meet me back at Potter Manor, Hedwig" he told his owl and flew down like a streak of black lightning toward the nearing person.

The mask removed all peripheral vision, so Harry's target was caught totally unaware. He landed in back of the Death Eater, transforming back to human just before touching the ground, grabbed the person in a firm embrace and apparated to Potter Manor, into a clump of private trees in case the property was somehow known to the ministry or Dumbledore and being watched.

"_Petrificus Totallis!" _Harry snarled, petrifying the struggling Death Eater. He ripped the silver mask off and glared. "Ginny. Welcome back from the dead, brat" he spat at her.

She glared silently, unable to overcome the power of his binding spell. Hate and fury radiated off of her.

Totally lacking any pretense of gentleness, Harry tore the robe off her left arm, twisting her arm painfully to expose the evil tattoo of the dark mark. He whispered _obliviate_ to remove any memory of his identity, cast a swift glamour on himself and apparated to the ministry, petrified Weasley in tow.

Harry thrust the redhead at the first auror he saw on the steps of the ministry, who was too shocked at the sight of the obviously alive and Death Eater Ginevra Weasley to find out who Harry was. Once he was sure that the aurors had her in custody, he apparated off to a private and safe location to fly back to HJ in Azkaban.

Coming back to prison was an eye opener. Harry was furious to find HJ and his trunk missing, the barred door wide open and swinging free on its hinges. The idiot had ignored his council and had escaped. Fuming, Harry swiftly flew out of Azkaban's boundaries to call once again for his faithful owl and ask her assistance in finding the missing Potter before the aurors or Dumbledore did.

Find him they did, a couple hours later. Harry's trunk was well hidden in an abandoned home's attic, disillusioned to match the cob webbed background. Harry flung the lid open and yelled down the stairs "It's me and you'd better not blast me with anything."

Harry stomped down the stairs, green eyes blazing with anger. HJ was reclining on a soft leather chair in the parlor with a half empty bottle of fire whiskey on the table by his side. "Yo, bro – whatssup?" he slurred and giggled.

In no mood for games, Harry petrified HJ, dumped a bucket of ice water on him, and forced a sobering potion down his throat for good measure. Glaring he conjured a chair of his own and faced him.

"WHAT were you thinking?" he yelled on the top of his lungs. HJ winced, but could not manage any thing else thanks to the petrifying hex locking him in place. "You couldn't wait ONE bloody day?" Harry continued, not lowering his voice at all. "I got the person who framed you – they are in custody all ready!"

HJ's eyes widened and Harry released him from the spell. "Who did it? Malfoy?" he asked with interest.

"Sort of" Harry snorted. "We need to get you back before they find you missing, if possible. It will make your pardon much smoother. Stay here, put on your prison rags and dirt and I'll get you back."

With a sign HJ turned and started to comply. "Can I have a hangover potion first?"

Harry glared and then smiled an evil, oily smile. "No HJ – you may not. The aurors have to think you are sickly and weak. Well, now you will feel like it for a day at least."

HJ turned back briefly while Harry watched him, glaring. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't think you'd have any luck. I should have stayed put."

Harry spun on his heel and stormed back up the stairs without bothering to reply. He shrunk the trunk and stuck it in his pocket. Morphing into eagle he flew as fast as he could, hoping he could beat the aurors to HJ's cell. He didn't want to leave this dimension until Voldemort was dead, and he didn't want to kill Voldemort without HJ drinking the bond terminator. Not really, at least.

Nearing Azkaban Island Harry could see a team of aurors with Dumbledore arriving by open boat. Swinging wide to hopefully avoid their notice he approached HJ's tower from the back and landed on the sill, carefully looking and listening. It looked the same as he had left it a short time ago. He jumped to the floor, transformed and enlarged the trunk, yelling down the stairs "HJ, get up here now! They are on their way!" Whirling around Harry frantically whipped out his wand, repairing and locking the door and examining the cell for any signs that might make Dumbledore suspicious that his famous prisoner had been doing anything except suffering over the last seven months.

HJ walked over to the straw and sat down, leaning against the wall and forcing a bored look on his face. He lay his forehead against the cool stone and gave his furious sidekick a pitiful look. Harry shrunk and pocketed the trunk and whispered frantically "make sure you act weak. Dumbledore is with the aurors – he expects to see you have suffered. _Don't _let him know you are stronger and better off than you were before he betrayed you. If he thinks you have abilities, he will lock you up somewhere else and keep you on the shelf like a good little weapon. Go to Gringotts and get the location for Potter Manor – I'll be waiting there for you. Make the Ministry emancipate you." HJ nodded with eyes shut painfully that he understood and Harry once again took on his eagle form and flew out the window as the sound of aurors came echoing up the tower stairs.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry wandered Potter Manor while waiting for HJ. Five elves were there, though Zippy was not one of them. The manor was the same, yet different from Harold's world – same layout and size, but no where near as ostentatious as Harold's family had made it. It was empty, but certainly warmer and more comfortable. With the quiet and long wait Harry found himself growing nostalgic for mother and father Potter and Harold. And Sirius – definitely Sirius.

Portraits of Lily and James Potter hung above the fireplace in the master bedroom, but they had not been activated and were still and silent as a muggle portrait. Harry wondered if HJ would even care, but they were not his parents to awaken.

Exploring a small office off of the master suite, Harry was surprised to find an interesting painting of a wizard in ancient robes, proudly standing with artist pallet and brushes in hand. "Who are you, boy? I haven't seen anyone in years" the man spoke with a robust, happy voice.

The Boy-Who-Lived stood in front of the painting, a small canvas only 18 x 24 inches in size and studied the man of the portrait. The wizard was perhaps in his 60s, with messy Potter hair in shades of salt and pepper, friendly eyes crinkled in an amazing number of 'crows feet', and warm red cheeks. Harry decided right off that he liked the man. "I'm Harry Potter sort of" he smiled back. "I'm waiting for your real Harry Potter."

The wizard raised his eyebrows that were a nest of untamed long white hairs. "Sort of, my boy?" he asked with a grin. "Dimensional travel then?"

Harry laughed. It seems that jumping from world to world was not that uncommon – at least for Potters. "Yep. I just caught the jerk that framed your Harry – he's out of Azkaban now and should be on his way here." He studied the man for a moment more before asking "may I ask your name? I take it you are an artist?"

The wizard laughed jovially. "I am Archibald Potter – your great, great, great, etcetera Uncle. Yes, I was a wizard artist – died in 1716. Lily kept me here in her private office because she enjoyed my company."

"I'd like to learn wizard art" Harry sighed. "I've got some talent with drawing and painting – I think it would be dead useful."

"Yes, you mother told me they don't teach art anymore at Hogwarts" the man sighed melodramatically. He brightened and looked shrewdly at the green-eyed boy. "Why don't you shrink my portrait and keep me in your pocket? The Potter Heir will not miss me, and I'd like to teach someone my skills. If you have what it takes, that is." He grinned widely and added "If you don't, I think we will have a jolly time together."

With a smile Harry removed Archibald's canvas from the wall, shrunk and pocketed it. He transfigured a bulletin board from a sheet of parchment and hung it in the empty space on the wall, thumb tacking a couple of notes his mother had lying on the desk. Harry was tempted to look through Lily's desk to learn more about his Mum, but realized with sadness this wasn't _his_ mum – she was HJ's. Although there would be many similarities between this Lily Potter and the Lily Potter of his universe, any notes and letters and personal belongings were HJ's, and not meant for him. He felt a small twinge of guilt for taking the portrait – after all it was stealing. But he swiftly shrugged it off – HJ didn't seem very interested in staying in England or learning about his heritage, and Harry felt the volatile boy rather owed him.

The wards chimed and Harry felt the warning feel of HJ's apparition into the manor. Leaving his mother's private den he descended the stairs to greet his twin. HJ was standing in the main foyer studying the manor without moving. "Nice place I have here" he casually muttered, betraying his shock with his eyes.

"So how did it go?" Harry asked with interest. He led HJ to the kitchen and excited elves took turns wrapping themselves around the stunned wizard's knees, weeping with excitement, and fighting over preparing lunch and tea for the bewildered master of the manor.

The boy sat down after patting several elves on the head and leaned back in the chair. "Well, I'm free, pardoned, and 100,000 galleons richer for 'my troubles' he growled bitterly. "I demanded to be emancipated and to have my NEWTS wavered so I will not have to return to Hogwarts. Fudge complied." HJ looked up and gave Harry an appraising look. "You were right – Dumbles tried to talk me into coming with him 'for my own safety' – what a moron. I went to Gringotts – I take it you knew we are filthy rich."

"Yep" Harry nodded. "Oh - I usually take the blue and green bedroom on the left at the top of the stairs, but I really don't care. It's your home." An elf brought over a huge platter of sandwiches, enough for five hungry wizards. "What have they got scheduled for you?" he asked with interest around a large bite of food.

HJ stared off into space and sighed. "Ginny was a shock. Her trial is tomorrow so I need to be there. I think they got Malfoy too. I refused their offer of St Mungos and told them I'd use a private doctor for any healing needs."

"Ill come with you to the trial under glamour" Harry said gently. HJ shot him a grateful look. "Any plans for after the trial? I still will need you to hang close so I can deal with your Voldy problem."

The tired boy signed, drumming impatient fingers on the table. "I'd love to leave this country and never return. I've now got the money to do so. But as I'd like to survive a few more years, I'll stay until we can murder that snake-faced lowlife."

"Awwwww" Harry smiled with exaggerated sweetness at the glowering boy. "I don't know if I'd call it murder. More like a pest extermination."


	12. Order In The Court

**Chapter 12 - Order In The Court**

The court room was a fury of excitement when HJ and Harry arrived. Reporters were surrounding the just-released Boy-Who-Lived, shouting questions at him like "Harry – are you seeing anyone?" and "Harry – how did you feel when you found your girlfriend had set you up?" HJ glared and pushed his way through them. Inside the court room an auror showed him to his seat and Harry made his way back to one of the rows of guest seats, only available to him because HJ demanded.

People craned their necks and turned in their seats to gawk at HJ, and Harry, safely hidden under a glamour of brown hair and eyes, was grateful that nobody paid any attention to him. He noticed at one point Mrs. Weasley attempted to speak to HJ, but by the body language and facial expressions of the two people, Harry could tell it wasn't a very forgiving conversation. He noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie and Ron all sat together, with Hermione and Remus. Dumbledore was naturally with the rest of the Wizengamot, and Percy was attached to the Minister's hip. Some things in the universe are a comforting constant.

Ginevra Weasly, bound and silenced, was brought in and chained to the chair in the center of the room. She made brief eye contact with HJ and Harry observed she had a look that spoke a volume of defiance and venom. The room hushed and Fudge pounded his gavel, calling the room to order.

"On this day, November 10, 1997, I, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, call the start of the trial of one Ginevra Molly Weasley. The prisoner is accused of being a Death Eater in league with You-Know-Who, withholding evidence in a murder, illegal use of polyjuice potion, and defaming the character of one Harry James Potter." The portly man looked around the room pompously. "Are there any augments against the use of veritaserum in this trial?"

A wizard solicitor, a bit shabbily dressed but probably the best the Weasleys could afford, stood to his feet and replied "We object on the grounds of my client's age."

"Denied due to the nature of her crimes and the fact the accused turns 17 in less than a year" Fudge replied, obviously bored. With a gesture from the minister an auror brought forth a small vial of the truth serum and waited for the Wizengamot to certify its authenticity and purity. The auror then approached Ginny to give it to her, though it took a binding spell before they could force her to swallow it. A few moments passed and the young girl slumped in her chair, eyes glazed over in a drugged haze.

"Now then" Fudge cleared his throat noisily and looked at the notes he held in front of him, "Miss Weasley, tell the court. Who was it murdered on Hogwarts grounds on April 6th, 1007?"

Ginny gave the appearance of trying to fight the potion for a moment, but then answered dully "I don't know. Some stupid muggle I caught and brought to Hogwarts."

The courtroom broke out in shouting and whispers, but Fudge banged his gavel and demanded silence. "You have the Dark Mark?"

"Yes" she answered in a monotone.

"Did you get the Dark Mark willingly? Are you a willing follower of You-Know-Who?" Fudge's eyes glittered with excitement as he asked.

"Yes. I love the Dark Lord. I hope to be his chosen mistress to have his children and carry on his noble lineage" came the drugged reply. Mrs. Weasley broke down in loud sobbing in the gallery.

"When did you receive the Dark Mark and why?" Fudge asked.

"During the summer after my third year" Ginny answered, staring unfocused before her. "I fell in love with Tom through the diary. I wanted him to come back. When he received his body I went straight to him – we were still connected because of the diary."

The room broke into buzzing and whispers again, but a quick tap of the gavel and a hush blanketed the crowd once more.

"Tell us about the events of April sixth," Fudge demanded without pity.

"My Lord wanted Potter out of the way. I pretended to like him and became his girlfriend." Even under the veritaserum the red-head sneered in disgust. "I came up with the plan to discredit him and have him put away. Once my Lord approved, it was easy to sneak off of Hogwarts and kidnap a random muggle. I gave her polyjuice with my hair. Polyjuice lasts for months on muggles because they have no magic to fight the effects."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that. That could be useful to know. He glanced down at HJ with pity, noting his twin's hands clenched at his sides. Harry could imagine he was glaring at the young girl, feeling used, humiliated and foolish.

"I hid the girl in the forbidden forest, stupefied, and found Draco. Draco had some of Potters hairs I had given him and took polyjuice to look like him. I wanted to wait for night and do it where just that filth Hagrid could witness, but Draco wanted to do it now where everyone could see. Draco is an idiot and my Lord punished him." Ginny smiled a satisfied though fuzzy smirk. "Anyone with half a brain should realize nobody is stupid enough to strangle someone in full view of several score of witnesses. But my Lord was right. You will believe anything – you are all fools and deserve to be put down like the dogs you are."

The room once again erupted in chaos – reporter's quills scritching a mile a minute, Molly Weasley's moans and weeping, various witches and wizards angry shouts. Fudge fired off a bang with his wand and brought the room to order.

"Now, Miss Weasley" the minister glared at the drugged girl, "Is Draco Malfoy a Death Eater?" He smirked in satisfaction as Ginny nodded her head in affirmation. "Who else is a marked Death Eater?"

"Lucius Malfoy, Crabb and Goyle, Umbridge, um…" she paused in her naming of the Death Eaters and Harry could see sweat pouring down her face.

"Go on" Fudge snapped sternly after making sure Percy was copying all she said down on parchment.

Harry watched in shock. It seemed obvious to him that the youngest Weasley was fighting between the command of the veritaserum and a wizard's oath, but Fudge and the rest of the room seemed not to realize or care about the witch's distress. She started grabbing at her arm, scratching at the now showing dark mark upon it, sweating and whimpering. With a final agonized scream Ginny fell forward, slumped limply in the chair, held upright only by the chains. The room was still in stunned silence for a moment, then broke out in loud chaos once again.

Fudge called for a break and everyone was ushered out of the room so the aurors could attend to the misguided girl. HJ met up with Harry in the hall way. He shook his head sadly and looked at Harry with intense eyes. "I hated her when I found out yesterday she did it. But I didn't want her dead. What happened? Is she…?"

Harry shrugged sadly. "Yah – I'm sure she is. She probably broke a wizards oath to Voldemort not to reveal Death Eater identities, and couldn't fight the veritaserum. Nasty way to die, but I doubt Fudge will lose any sleep over it."

HJ started to say something when he was interrupted by Ron and Hermione pushing through the crowded hallway to grab his arm. "Harry" the bushy-haired witch's voice shouted, shrill and nagging. "You simply must forgive us! We were wrong and we are sorry."

"Yah, mate!" Ron added, wearing a goofy expression. "We screwed up. At least you weren't in there that long." He looked down, suddenly serious. "I do feel awful about Gin. Hope she's ok in there…"

HJ and Harry looked at each other stunned. "She's dead, you moron" HJ spat at his former best friend. "She's dead, and I'm not your 'mate'. I hate you both. Never speak to me again."

The bell chimed to signal the end of the break and HJ dove through the crowd to get away from the gaping pair. They stared at Harry like he had something to do with what HJ had said, but Harry simply shrugged and turned away. "Well I never!" he could hear Hermione huff in back of him.

Harry took his seat and noticed an auror approached the Weasley family and lead them out a side door. The accused's seat was empty – Harry was positive Ginny was indeed beyond Azkaban. When the family of red-heads had exited Fudge cleared his throat and said in a serious voice "I'm sorry to announce that Ginevra Weasley is dead. It seemed that she was under a wizard's oath to prevent from revealing the identities of other Death Eaters. The veritaserum overrode the oath, causing her demise. Aurors have already been dispatched to pick up the individuals implicated by Miss Weasley in her testimony." Ignoring the choking sounds coming from his red-haired clerk, he turned to face HJ in the stands and asked in a smarmy voice "Do you have any questions, Mr. Potter?"

HJ stood, and with back straight and feet planted he answered "Yes. I demand by my right as victim to use veritaserum on Albus Dumbledore." He looked around the gallery with serious expression as the room broke into shouting.

Once Fudge had a quickly whispered meeting with the Wizengamot he returned to the judge's seat and demanded the quiet restored. "Mr. Potter, you do have this right, but only if it will prove guilt or culpability in your case. Miss Weasley is dead and I have received word that Lucius and Draco Malfoy are in custody. Are you trying to say that the great Albus Dumbledore is a Death Eater?"

The boy had remained standing and ignored the many horrified and hateful looks he was getting. "Minister Fudge, I don't know if Albus Dumbledore is a Death Eater, but I do know he should have been more in control of his students during this incident. First of all there were at least two marked Death Eaters attending school. I can't imagine the wards do not notify the headmaster of people with the dark mark entering and leaving the school grounds." HJ glanced around the room and noted people were acting less aggressive now. "Secondly, on Dumbledore's insistence I was receiving private tutoring in occlumency from Professor Snape during that time. Both Snape and Dumbledore were well aware of my feelings against Voldemort, my relationship with Miss Weasley, and that I was not a Death Eater. Neither came to witness on my behalf."

An older witch in the Wizengamot stood and yelled "this is highly irregular, Cornelius! I think Mr. Potter is simply looking for revenge!" Dumbledore nodded sagely in agreement.

Fudge gestured to Amelia Bones, head of Magical Law Enforcement and they had a hurried whispered conversation. After a good wait the Minister looked over at HJ and said "the court will honor your right as long as every question is first given to us to make sure it is not abused."

Harry was amused to watch a furious Albus Dumbledore escorted to the chained seat and forced to take the truth serum. HJ walked over to stand between Fudge and Bones and waited the short minute for the veritaserum to take effect. Every person in the court room was breathless in anticipation of the interrogation of the leader of the light. HJ whispered to the two adults, who nodded their assent, and asked Dumbledore "Did you know I was innocent of the murder of Ginny Weasley?"

"Yes" came the dull, lifeless answer from the head of the Wizengamot. The crowded room gasped in horror.

With a nod from Amelia, he asked "Can you tell who are Death Eaters at school?"

"Yes" came answer. "The wards let me know who has the Dark Mark and when they leave or enter the grounds." Again the room broke out in mutterings and sounds of shock. Fudge restored the quiet with a bang and continued.

More whispered consultation and HJ asked the Headmaster "Why did you want me in Azkaban?"

Dumbledore was trying to fight the potion's command, but gave in and answered "you were too popular. I wanted to be remembered as the leader of the light. I had a hunch that if you died it would kill Voldemort because of your curse scar's connection. Putting you in Azkaban would rid me of you and Voldemort, and I hoped to be able to claim the Potter fortune for my own."

Again HJ got Fudge and Bone's approval. "Why did you want me under your custody when I was released yesterday?"

Hatred blazed from the drugged mugwhump's eyes. "So I could get control of your money. Minerva was getting suspicious of the missing funds from the Hogwarts treasury, so I needed a new source of money. I also wanted to use you to kill Tom Riddle and then make sure you didn't survive."

"Are you a Death Eater?" Fudge asked the ex-mugwhump.

"No" came Dumbledore's muzzy reply. Fudge signaled an end to the questioning.

Order was eventually restored. In quick succession Dumbledore was stripped of his job, titles, position with the Wizengamot, fined heavily and threatened with Azkaban. Hermione and Remus left the building without anymore attempts to talk to HJ. Harry and HJ were taken to a private floo to go home and avoid the shark-like reporters.

"When is Malfoy's trial?" Harry asked his twin as they dusted off their robes at the manor.

HJ shrugged with apathy. "I think the rest of the trials are next week. I'll be attending those too."

They entered the kitchen to see the elves had collected many letters from many owls. They had discarded the howlers and sorted the mail into piles of 'close friends', 'business related' and 'strangers'. Friends were a small stack. Harry glanced over and pointed out "hey – that top letter is from the twins."

HJ looked a little interested and took the envelope. "I noticed they were missing today. They were not part of the Weasley mob calling for my blood during my trial." He opened it and read out loud:

_Harry Mate,_

_George here. Congratulations on your release and restored reputation. We hope you noticed that Fred and I were not with our family today. We never believed you were guilty and tried to demand a fair trial for you. Our family disowned us over it._

_**Fred here. Ditto. Also, we want you to know there is a new vault for you at Gringotts with your half of our store's earnings. We have been constantly adding to it, making sure you would always have some money incase the Ministry grabbed the rest of your vaults.**_

_You are always welcome at the store and in our homes. Do not judge us by the Weasley hair. Our loyalty has never wavered._

_**We hope you aren't feeling guilty over Ginny's death. Although we miss the little girl who was our sister, she had changed drastically since Hogwarts, and we no longer knew her. We do not blame you at all.**_

_Gred & Forge_

HJ sighed sadly. He looked at Harry, eyes suspiciously shiny. "I suppose they are two of the reasons I want to stick around. At least long enough to finish the job."

Harry smiled gently. "Yah, since Dumbles blabbed at the trial, it would be a good idea to do it quickly before some gung-ho auror decides to test the theory."

The boy laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back thoughtfully. "How about tomorrow?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

HJ put on dueling robes and strung a cord with the tiny vial of Bond Terminator around his neck. He patted his robes re-checking for his wand and several explosive potions Harry and he had brewed that morning. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yep" Harry answered, opening the trunk and gesturing him down the stairs. Once HJ was inside Harry shut the trunk, shrunk and pocketed it. He stepped out onto the back deck of the manor and breathed in the sweet air of the early morning. It was time to kill a snake. He morphed into his eagle and took off toward Little Hangleton.

It didn't take long. Once one the grounds Harry transformed back to human in back of a large gravestone and let HJ out of the trunk. Hiding the trunk again in his robes, they crept to the manor side by side.

Voldemort was waiting by the door. "HJ – take your potion now" Harry whispered to his twin, who was tensed and ready to jump on the Dark Lord and rend him with his bare hands. But HJ obeyed, and quickly swallowed the tiny essence, then to Harry's surprise, morphed into his panther form and leapt.

Harry quickly cast soul binding spells on Voldemort who screamed and tried to fight the furious cat. Once Harry felt the soul was bound, he left HJ to extract his revenge and kept watch for other Death Eaters. It seemed that Voldemort had been alone, but he could hear the faint cracks and pops of apparating wizards in the distance beyond the wards. "We've got company, HJ – hurry up" he shouted. Voldemort's dying eyes lit on Harry and widened in shock to see he had been defeated by two Boys-Who-Lived.

HJ changed back to human, and each of them grabbed one of Riddle's arms and apparated to the steps of the Ministry. Harry left HJ with Voldemort's body and went back to the manor. The world didn't need to hear about two Harry Potters.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The next week was a blur for the two Potter men. The trials of the Death Eaters implicated by Ginny were to take place early in the week, and the whole of magical Britain was celebrating the death of You-Know-Who.

First Draco, then his father were both found guilty of being Death Eaters, murder, and the like. Both were sentenced to the kiss, which was performed immediately.

Ginny had implicated 'Crabbe and Goyle' at her trial, but didn't specify father or son. So both boys were caught by aurors unaware, and found to be free of the Dark Mark. Warrants were issued for their fathers, who were currently missing and on the run.

The trial of Umbridge lasted several days. Once HJ showed his scars from the blood quill and gave penseive memories of the toad-like woman's other crimes during his fifth year, the court took the time to find other witnesses to bring more charges against the woman. The week ended with Dolores receiving a life sentence in Azkaban, as she was not connected with any murders.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was only two days after Umbridges trial that Harry woke up to find that HJ was gone, not saying goodbye but leaving a note and a box for him on the kitchen table.

_Dear Harry,_

_I never did say thanks for everything. Thank you – for my freedom, my reputation, for making me stick around to kill Voldemort. I'm glad it's all over with._

_Sorry I'm not saying goodbye – I'm just not that way. I don't know where exactly I'm going, but I'm sure it's out of the UK. I don't know if I'll ever be back – feel free to take anything you want from the manor or to stay here. But I figured you will take off to your 'next Harry'. You have quite an interesting life. The box is simply some funds to add to your trunk – you used quite a bit of galleons worth of potions and equipment to train and prepare me – use the money to help with your next few Harrys._

_Thanks Again,_

'_HJ'_

Harry glanced in the box with a grin. Yes – that would help. He walked down the stairs of his trunk, packing and stashing the new gold with the dwindling funds Snape had given him. The wizard picked up the portrait of Archibald Potter, enlarged it and hung it above the parlor fireplace with a gentle smile. Archie was no longer a 'borrowed' painting, but gifted freely to him.

"Where to, young nephew" Archibald smiled with his sun-shiny face.

"Not sure, Uncle Archie" Harry grinned at the man and walked up the stairs. He went through his ritual – shrink the trunk, pocket it. Check for wand and Bond Terminators around the neck. Up the stairs, shrink the trunk, grab the amulet. It was time to move on.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Author Notes: I really struggled with how to word the charges against Ginny. Feel free to e-mail me suggestions, and I'll go back and tweak it in. _

_I'm expecting arguments as to whether Harry would have taken Uncle Archie without asking like that. I debated it with myself a long time, and felt that Harry is starting to feel lonely and felt that HJ did owe him. Also, HJ has given him the feeling he's just going to leave England and has no ties to anything Potter, Harry had never seen Uncle Archie before, and didn't want him left alone. My ears are open – did I misread Harry, or is it no big deal?_

_Oh – I know polyjuice potion isn't illegal – but I'm sure there would be laws controlling its use. If a wizard kills someone using a simple curse it's still murder. If you use common potions and spells to commit a crime, it would have to be regulated somehow by law._


	13. Back Home At The Ranch

**Chapter 13 - Back Home at the Ranch**

Life sucked back in Harry's real world. There was simply no other way to put it. With Harry safely out of the way, Voldemort came out in full force in a terrifying wave of violence, intimidation and force. Raids on innocent muggle-borns and muggles seems to be an almost daily occurrence now. Survivors were few, and purebloods were flocking to Voldemort out of fear and self-preservation.

The Order of the Phoenix had also swollen with new members desperate to stop the dark lord, but they never managed to do much beyond clean up and reconnaissance. Dumbledore led with an eye-twinkling firm hand, but soon the members began to realize they were not accomplishing much.

The Ministry was collapsing. Fudge was first voted out of office because of his lack of action, and then discovered to be a Death Eater. He was given the dementor's kiss a short week later. Streets were empty, enrollment for the coming semester of Hogwarts was dropping daily, and fear was in everyone's hearts.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Molly sat at her kitchen table drumming her fingers on the table, waiting for a cup of tea to cool. It was early in the morning – Author had left for work and their children were all still asleep in bed, taking advantage of the summer holiday. As much as she tried to think of other things, her thoughts kept going back to the lonely green-eyed boy she had boasted to anyone who would listen was 'the black-haired Weasley'. She sure hadn't turned out to be much of a mum to the poor child.

The plump matron stood and gazed out the kitchen window, unseeing and filled with regrets. She felt it all boiled down to Dumbledore. Albus over the years had convinced her to befriend Harry, mother him, and then abandon him for fear of her own family's safety. Ron's injuries at the Ministry only helped to re-enforce what Albus had been feeding her all along. With a heartfelt sigh she picked up her beaker and took a sip. What was Albus doing to help everyone? Wasn't he the leader for the light?

When the subject of Harry was brought up, Molly had to confess she didn't like the hungry look in her daughter's eye, or the impatient jealously that radiated in Ron's. The twins were stanch in their support of their friend and refused to believe any bad of the lad, though Percy, when he spoke the family, was just as swift to condemn the boy as a grandstanding spoiled brat. Molly was certain, though, that spoiled brats don't come from their family's home at the end of each summer starved and beaten.

Where was Harry now? He had simply disappeared from the Dursley's home. He had been gone a few weeks before the Order even realized something was wrong. It wasn't abnormal for the child to be kept locked inside the house ('for his own safety', Albus had assured the Order), but after weeks of not seeing him, Remus had forced his way into the house to find the child missing.

What the Dursleys confessed to under veritaserum still made Molly shiver. How could human beings be so terrible to each other? Their own flesh and blood? Obviously Harry had run away, but to where? Albus could not find the lad at Godric's Hollow or Potter Manor – the boy had simply disappeared. Albus seemed chillingly apathetic about finding Harry, but Molly couldn't help but feel that somehow Harry was critical to the final defeat of You-Know-Who. The child had survived encounters with him five times now – he _had_ broken all records when it came to that.

She could hear the sound of stirring and waking upstairs. Mechanically Molly reached for eggs and her favorite frying pan. She couldn't help but feel that the wizarding world had failed Harry Potter most spectacularly, and that they had only cut their own throats in doing so.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

At the same moment in time Albus Dumbledore, head of the wizengamot, etc, etc, was sitting at his desk in his office studying a large map laid out on his desk. Fawkes was eyeing him with a glittering, intelligent look while the ancient studied all the locations of attacks since the approximate time of Harry's disappearance.

"Do you think Harry is in back of Voldemort's boldness?" he asked his bird, scratching his long snowy beard thoughtfully. "Could the lad have run away and joined his worst enemy?"

Fawkes gave a negative squawk that was impossible to misinterpret.

"No, I really didn't think so either" Albus answered back with a shrug. "It's just so annoying. Harry takes off and Tom comes out in full force. Could Tom have found a way to kill Harry without hurting himself? That would explain his lack of caution."

The phoenix gave a sad trill. "Yes, old friend. It certainly would have been a waste. I honestly thought Tom would simply kill Harry, thereby taking himself out."

Fawkes squinted his shiny black eyes in disgust at his human. Albus looked at him and gave a dismissive wave of his gnarled hand. "Oh I know – not very pleasant life for young Harry, but what is the life of one small boy with no living relatives of importance, compared to all the lives that Riddle is taking every day? I think the greater good is what's important here."

But as he studied the map, he could clearly hear his typically silent conscious asking him _'but what give you the right, Albus, to make that choice for Harry?'_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ron and Hermione were sitting under a tree at the Burrow. She had joined the Weasleys a couple weeks ago, after saying goodbye to her parents for an indeterminate time – they were heading to Australia to set up practice there. The youngest Weasley boy was holding her hand, nervous sweat dripping down his temples as he tried to work up the courage to kiss the bushy-haired lass.

She looked at the dripping boy holding her hand in a clammy, insecure grip. She gave a smile of semi-encouragement – Hermione wasn't really sure what she wanted anymore. At the end of the school year, when they were both recovering from their injuries from the Ministry battle, it was all so simple. Keep an eye on Harry for the headmaster, and hope beyond hope that Ron would finally work up the courage to ask her out. But everything was different now.

The world had changed – every day was a danger, with desperate hope that Voldemort wouldn't find the Burrow, or headquarters, or one of their friends. Desperate prayers were lifted that they could all live another day. Where she had once found Ron tall, handsome, and brave, she was now seeing him as a daily reminder of her shallow devotion to her other 'best friend'. The youngest son of the Weasleys was getting on her nerves.

Hermione kept thinking back to that last frantic phone call from Harry, where he was obviously crying for help. She spurned him, following the headmaster's orders without hesitation. Now Harry was gone – dead, run away, who knows – and the world was in chaos. It was almost like fate was furious with them for their treatment of The-Boy-Who-Lived, and was getting revenge.

Finally Ron leaned closer and stammered "m-m-may I kiss you, Hermione?"

She smiled and leaned in herself, closing her eyes in a strange mixture of anticipation and apathy. He had body odor, and had obviously never kissed a girl before. Their noses mashed together, teeth clicked, and after a couple seconds they pulled apart awkwardly. Ron looked ecstatic and relieved. Hermione felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

They spent the day wandering the garden of the Burrow, occasionally chatting about nothing in particular or pausing for another kiss. He was improving at least she thought ruefully. Finally, after lunch had a chance to settle, Ron blurted out "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She blinked her brown eyes in surprise. She never expected Ron to have the sensitivity to realize something wasn't right. Finally she looked at him sadly. "I feel so guilty about Harry" she whispered.

"So you fancy him, eh?" Ron spat out in a fury. He clenched his fists and glared, pulling away from her side.

Tears came unbidden to her eyes. "No, Ron – never. I never thought of Harry like that. I've fancied you since third year. I just feel so guilty for the way we treated him. I feel like it's my fault he's gone and the world is falling apart."

"Since third year?" the red-head squeaked. His hands relaxed and he drew near again. "Who cares about the Bloody Boy Who Lived? He ran away – too scared to do his job and get rid of You-Know-Who. He's probably hanging out on some tropical island spending Sirius' money and having all the women he wants." He pulled her close for another one of his amateur kisses.

"I just feel responsible" she sniffed after the smooch. "If I had taken the time to talk to him, maybe he would have stayed. Maybe he could have defeated Voldemort." And maybe, possibly, she wouldn't have such an empty, aching feeling in her heart.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ginny was sitting on her bed, gazing out her window with her head resting on her folded arms. She watched her brother and Hermione wandering around the yard, and found herself snorting out loud when they finally kissed. She didn't think her friend was really into it – she was acting very submissive and laid back for someone who should be infatuated.

Feh. If she couldn't have Harry, then nobody should be happy. She watched them wander out of her line of sight and moved from the window. She sat at her desk to write another letter to Harry, first snatching the last caramel whipped delight from a now empty two-pound box. She didn't know why she bothered – all her letters were returned undelivered so far.

She glanced in her mirror and winced. Another zit was forming on her left cheek. Her complexion, once the envy of all, was now as bad as Stan Shunpike's. It was Harry's fault – everyone must see that. Where muggle chocolate had nothing to do with acne, (though the myth was popular), wizard's chocolate when consumed in quantity cause terrible breakouts. Since Harry left, Ginny was consuming boxes of the stuff to deal with her depression. At least she was able to brew the potion to keep the extra calories from turning to fat on her petite frame.

She drummed her fingers on the desk in a parody of her mother's favorite habit. Where was Harry? Could he possibly be dead? A tear dripped down her cheek – it would mean an end to all her dreams and plans. Oh Dean was nice enough, but Dean was only a half-blood from a simple middle-class family – life with him would be a struggle, with two incomes being a given. Neville, pure blooded and fairly well-to-do, was simply a dork. She might occasionally make Witch Weekly or the Prophet's society page married to him, but with his pudginess and overbite, he just didn't 'do' anything for her. And Augusta for a mother-in-law? Plueease!

But Harry was the answer to all her needs. Handsome (though he didn't realize it), famous, fabulously wealthy when he came of age – he could provide for her in the manner she so deeply desired. Oh the robes and jewelry she would have – her parties would be the talk of the town! Move over Malfoys – the new lady of society is here! She could just feel Draco's jealous eyes raking her up and down as she would enter the crowded room wearing the very best designer robes. The furious burning flushed cheeks of Lavender and Parvati as they glared at her in envy. She would show them all.

She picked up her quill and dipped it in the ink. _Dearest Harry,_ she began, as her left hand groped in her desk drawer for a fresh box of choclolates. He couldn't be dead – he just couldn't.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Severus Snape stumbled on his walk back to the castle. He had gone many weeks without the Dark Lord punishing him, but the party was over. His muscles and nerves trembled with post-cruciatus pain. Voldemort had been in a great mood recently, and now he knew why, but that hadn't stopped the Dark Lord from handing out cruciatus curses like Halloween treats to unlucky Death Eaters.

Snape had given Potter the means to leave the country, and had assumed the boy was safely ensconced in the states, France, or some other location. He had let Voldemort know what he did (up to a point) so the Dark Lord would stop looking for the child. But instead of sitting back and drawing up plans, Voldemort had plowed ahead with aggression, throwing the magical world into chaos. Snape just prayed that Dumbledore would not find out how much his Potions Master had assisted the boy.

Tonight, though, was quite the revelation. Instead of heading out of Britain, the Dark Lord in a moment of levity, admitted he helped the boy through the veil – willingly at that! The potions master shook his head as he swung open the huge doors to the castle. So Harry Potter was now living in an alternate reality, no way back, and Voldemort was safe with their bond broken. It wasn't exactly what Snape had in mind when he offered Potter a chance at freedom. Albus was not going to be pleased.

He got to his chambers and collapsed in his favorite chair, swiftly downing a vial of post-cruciatus elixir. He'd go up and give his report to the headmaster once he got a bite to eat and drank a couple more healing potions. But as he started to pour himself a glass of cool water, an owl tapped on his window breaking him from his musings. Opening the window he was startled to see the owl was Harry's own – he was taking care of her as promised, but he hadn't sent her out on any delivery.

Snape pulled the letter from her leg and was shocked to see the address was a familiar script. Swiftly checking the envelope and parchments for hexes, portkeys, and the like, he noted Hedwig was waiting for a reply.

_Dear Professor,_

_Please burn this as soon as you finish reading it, and send a reply back with Hedwig to let me know this worked. _

_I am fine, and deeply indebted to you. It turns out elves and owls are multi-dimensional – this is another Hedwig sort of. Not every owl will jump worlds, so you have to find one that is willing and understands. If you need anything, let me know. I'd like to hear how things are going there. I'm training hard and intend to return when prepared and ready._

_Needless to say, please do not say anything to Dumbledork. Or Voldemort – that would be a bummer._

_Sincerely,_

_HJP_

Snape read the letter three times to memorize it, and then buried the knowledge in his deepest, most protected area of his mind. He burned the letter and swiftly scattered the ashes out the window. Tossing Hedwig a treat he grabbed a quill and quickly penned a reply.

_Potter_

_Glad to be of service. Interesting solution to leaving the country. The Dark Lord wasted no time in unleashing quite the reign of terror and destruction – please do not take too long if you have a way to rid us of this monster. _

_Albus sends his love. Just kidding – he's losing popularity at an alarming rate. Fudge was found to be a DE and kissed. All your fans and friends are safe at the moment._

_S_

The dour man cast many spells on Hedwig to first make sure she was indeed Harry's owl, and secondly to insure she could not be interrupted in her delivery. Then he rolled the note into a tight scroll and tied it directly to the owl's leg. "Go on, girl. Take that back to Harry" he spoke softly and opened his window for her.

Turning away he steeled his back. It was time to report to Albus.


	14. Seeing Quadruple

**Chapter 14 - Seeing Quadruple**

The now familiar spinning sensation slowed and stopped and Harry opened his eyes. A powerful rotting stench hit his nose and he found himself facing a mountain of putrid flesh with a scaly hide. The Boy-Who-Lived flinched backward and glanced around the room. Yep – he was in the Chamber of Secrets practically on top of the 12-foot high remains of the basilisk. "Super" he muttered out loud.

"Super". "Super". "Super". Harry shook his head – his utterance echoed three times, but he couldn't recall the chamber echoing so much when he was here last. But then he had been rather distracted. He slowly backed away from the carcass, quietly tip-toeing toward the column in the shadows to his right.

The young wizard froze. There – he could hear soft steps to his left, and then his right! He was not alone! There were at least two other people in the chamber with him. Obviously they heard him as well as all movement ceased, except for a muffled intake of breath.

What seemed an eternity passed as the room stayed silent as a tomb. Not wishing to remained motionless a moment more, Harry decided it was time to act. He quietly withdrew his wand and pointed it at the giant carcass. OK, this was gonna be gross, but it should distract anyone else in the room and allow him to escape.

BARROOOOM!!!

The concussion blew the boy off his feet and flung him backwards against the pillar, where he was knocked out cold.

Coming to an indefinite amount of time later, Harry shook his head and slowly opened bleary eyes. He winced feeling the tender back of his head and decided his first action, after making sure he was safe, was going to be fetching a headache potion. He groggily sat upright, wrinkling his nose with disgust. Reucto should NOT have caused that kind of an explosion! The basilisk was gone – reduced to a huge scattered mass of reeking gibbets of ripe snake. Harry was thinking that burning his clothes might be next in priority after that headache potion when he heard groaning to his left, right, and across from him.

Four young men shakily stood to their feet, groaning and wiping offal off faces and arms with matching grimaces. "Let me guess" the person to Harry's right smirked. "We all used reducto at the same time on the carcass?" Everyone nodded in unison.

A loud 'pop' and Zippy appeared in the middle of the circle of confused people. He gaped and smiled and cleaned up the mess with a snap of his fingers. Harry gaped too. Once the ooze and filth was gone, he could plainly see the identity of the other three men. Four pairs of emerald green eyes, four heads of messy black hair framing four identical lightning bolt scars, gave four gasps in unison. He was not the only Harry Potter in this universe.

- - - - - - -

Chaos reigned for a while. Four Harry Potters were trying to communicate at once, most of the time saying the same things in unison. It was like being in a room with two sets of Weasley twins, and was not a situation that one could maintain sanity for long. But Zippy took control, and after consulting his 'watch' and other instruments was able to straighten things out.

"Interesting" he hummed in a soft voice, jotting in a notebook and consulting something that looked vaguely like a sextant. "Very interesting" he concluded, shut the book and proceeded to conjure up a kitchenette and make tea.

Four Harry Potters quirked identical eyebrows and sputtered "what's interesting?" They glared at each other, then shrugged, and then laughed.

Zippy calmly handed out cups of steaming Earl Gray and plates of sandwiches. The boys each conjured a comfy chair and sat down to eat and eye each other speculatively. There did not seem to be any differences between the young men – even their choice of clothing was pretty much the same, with only minor variations.

The elf lined the Potters up in a row with a snap of his fingers, much to the Harry's collective annoyance. He conjured a chair for himself, and sat down facing them. Clearing his throat, he started right in. "All right, gentlemen. I know this is confusing – this is a first for me too. First off, let me assure you – you are all Harry Potter. There are no polyjuiced imposters here, no twins separated at birth or any such nonsense". Zippy sat back in the overstuffed chair and sipped his tea for a moment, eyes glittering with amusement. The herd of Harrys all examined each other with curiosity.

"You are all remarkably alike" Zippy continued. "You each have been dimensional hopping, training up to defeat your own Voldemorts. You have each been betrayed by Dumbledore. You share identical backgrounds except in one major way" and the elf paused for dramatic emphasis. "You each were sorted into different houses at the welcoming feast" the elf concluded.

Murmmers of "well!" and "huh!" bandied around the room.

"You" Zippy pointed at 'our' Harry, first chair on the left, "were Gyrffandor". Going down the row, the elf gestured to each Potter in turn "you were Hufflepuff, you were Ravenclaw and you were Slytherin. Perhaps you could take to wearing shirts of your house colors to help tell yourselves apart?"

Four Harrys shrugged and waved four wands in four matching gestures. They now sported tee-shirts of red, yellow, blue and green. Naturally the blue shirt was piped in bronze and had the Ravenclaw emblem on it too. Show off.

"What do we do about names?" the Gryffandor Harry asked the other three.

"I suppose we could go by the founders names for this world" the Ravenclaw Harry mused. "Though I don't want to be called Rowena. How about Raven for me?"

"I'll use Gryff" Harry shrugged. Godric just sounded too ostentatious.

"Sal works for me" the Slytherin Harry smiled.

The yellow-clad Harry groaned. "Well I need some help! Huff? Puff? And Helga is right out!" The other three laughed good-naturedly.

"How about 'Buttercup' smirked Sal.

"How about 'Badger'" Raven interrupted swiftly. Four men shrugged and nodded in agreement. He turned to Zippy and addressed the elf. "What about this world? What is the Harry here like?"

Gryff, Sal, Raven and Badger settled back in their respective chairs and raised cups of tea for identical sips. It was a bit un-nerving, even for the unflappable house elf. But he gamely cleared his throat again and plowed on. "There is no Harry in this universe. He died soon after the Department of Mysteries under suspicious circumstances, a little over a year ago."

"Is Voldemort dead then?" Badger spoke up, the others nodding their matching curiosity.

Zippy shook his head. "I can't get a lot of information from my instruments" he apologized, "but I can tell you that it is probable that Dumbledore and Voldemort both realized Harry's life-link to the Dark Lord around the same time. It is most likely that Dumbledore murdered Mr. Potter and Voldemort found a way to shield him self from that possibility and severed the link before he was killed by the act. If Voldemort was dead you would not have come here."

"Hmmm" four Harrys pondered in unison.

Sal glanced around the room and casually flicked his wand to clear several piles of rodent bones near his chair. "It seems likely that this chamber is a secure place for us to stay. But how do we find out what is happening with the rest of the world?"

"I wonder if our friends were loyal in this universe" Badger mused. "Were your best mates Ron and Hermione?"

"Sort of" Gryff grimaced. "They were really Dumble's stooges."

"Draco and Nott were mine" Sal smirked.

"Ernie and Hermione" Raven concluded. "We can send Hedwig out for a Daily Prophet, but it would be wise to find a friend in Hogwarts we can consult."

"Sure" Sal chuckled dryly. "But who do we trust? How do we know who is good and who is dark in this universe?"

"Hermione was my best friend," Badger joined in. "You can't find a more loyal friend."

Gryff winced again. "Unfortunately she was loyal to Dumbledore in my world. She and Ron were spying on me. I really didn't have any close friends."

"I was seeing Ginny Weasley" Sal added with amusement. "What was she like in your worlds?"

"Fan of the Boy-Who-Lived" Gryff added abruptly.

"Didn't really know her" Raven mused.

"I saved her in the Chamber, but I didn't care for her much" Badger concluded.

Gryff tuned the others out for a while and pondered what he just heard. In the six or so universes he had visited so far, some things were consistent, and others changed radically. Percy Weasley for some strange reason was the same arrogant suck up no matter where he went. Snape in each world was mean, nasty, bitter, vicious, and loyal to the light on all the worlds to date. The twins, too, were the same friendly pranksters no matter where he went.

Some people, however, changed drastically from world to world. Dumbledores ran hot and cold – pure and honorable or dark, twisted and evil. All of them were powerful and dangerous wizards. Rons were pretty varied too – some were loyal, most were friends with moments of insane jealousy, and some never wanted anything to do with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Ginnys were all over the place so far – crazed teens after a famous boyfriend, steadfast friends who fought by his side, Death Eaters – Harry never knew what he was going to come across when it came to a Ginny. Part of him was disturbed by the youngest Weasley more than any other of his friends. It was almost when he met a fangirl Ginny, he could feel that something deep down was wrong or missing.

Now the discussion was centering on Hermione again. Hermione Granger – now there was a supreme disappointment. She was supposed to be one of his two best friends, and she had abandoned him in favor of the 'great leader of the light'. Gryff sighed sadly and rubbed his scar in frustration as the other three Harrys continued to debate how to find a friendly ear in Hogwarts. But as varied as Hermiones could be, one thing was the same – she was loyal. Not always to Harry, but she was loyal.

Gryff turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. Hufflepuff Harry was finishing up an impassioned plea to contact the bushy-haired witch in the castle. Badger smiled softly. "Let's worry about it in the morning. I think we could all use a good night's sleep."

Four Harry Potters agreed, opened four matching trunks, gifts of matching Severus Snapes, and walked down four sets of stairs to bed for the night.


	15. Will You Be My Friend?

**Chapter 15 - Will You Be My Friend?**

Harry – Gryff – sat in his trunk before retiring. Zippy had popped in to give him mail – a reply from his letter to 'his' Snape. Since the owls had no way to get into the chamber, the elf was collecting messages at Potter Manor and delivering them as necessary.

The boy shook his head with a grin. The potion's professor sounded as snarky as ever. But he had answered all his question – Harry now had a way to keep in touch with his universe without driving Zippy spare, things had become worse since he left, and nobody was trying to find him. All the people he cared about or had cared about were still alive.

Fudge being a Death Eater was no shock. The man had been consumed with politics and self-image – enough to drive the Daily Prophet's hate campaign against a pre-teen. That showed a pretty sick mind right off the bat. With one last smile at the letter he carefully folded it and put it on one of his mostly empty bookshelves in the small library and headed to bed.

He woke up a short hour later with a sense of uneasiness. Not danger, but just a strong gut feeling that something wasn't good. He swiftly sat up, threw on his jeans and red t-shirt and quietly but quickly crept up the trunk stairs.

Peering out of the trunk he silently watched a very interesting scene in front of him. In the middle of the chamber Sal was leaning over a figure tied to a chair that was probably petrified, since they weren't struggling. It appeared he was attempting to give the person a potion of some sort, when Badger came tearing out of his trunk.

"Sal!!! What are you doing?" the Hufflepuff Harry yelled on the top of his lungs, startling the Slytherin Harry into dropping the vial of potion.

When Sal flinched backwards, Gryff could see who the bound prisoner was. It was Hermione Granger – hog tied, blindfolded, and petrified, bushy hair completely messed up like she had been snatched from her bed. Gryff grinned, despite himself, and exited the trunk to enjoy the show.

Sal quirked an eyebrow at the sputtering and fuming Badger and calmly picked up the dropped vial. "I was _about_ to administer some veristaserum" he nonchalantly explained, "until I was so rudely interrupted. We need a friend in the castle. I want to be sure we choose someone who is loyal to us."

"But you simply can't kidnap friends in the middle of the night and force them to take ministry controlled potions!" Badger's voice was almost screeching at this point.

'_I hope I don't sound like that when I'm excited'_ Gryff thought dryly to himself.

"Well, we don't know she's a friend, do we?" Sal sneered at the excited young man. Raven, hearing the commotion, joined the group surrounding Hermione. Gryff almost felt sorry for her – tied and unable to move, and not having any idea who was arguing in front of her, whether friend or foe. Almost – he was still pretty bitter.

"Calm down, Badger" Raven interrupted calmly. "First of all, remember this isn't _your_ Hermione. Second of all, though perhaps a bit shocking, Sal does have a point. What better way to find out?"

"What if she isn't a friend and in Dumble's pocket? What then?" Gryff asked with curiosity. Sal shouldn't be dark – just ambitious. And as hurt and mad as Harry was at his Hermione back home, he certainly didn't want a former friend's blood on his hands.

Sal shrugged. "I'm quite handy with obliviate" he drawled. Badger looked quite indignant, but Gryff felt relieved at the solution.

Without a word Raven snatched the veritaserum out of Sal's hand, who didn't put up a fight. He uncorked it, sniffed it, then gently pried open Hermione's mouth to administer the three drops. They waited a minute, then Raven cleared his throat and gently asked "how do you feel about Harry Potter? Are you his loyal friend?"

Badger released the _petrificus totalus_ holding the young witch rigid, and they could see an emotional shudder go through her frame. Opening dry lips she spoke in a monotone "Harry Potter is dead. I loved him – he was my dearest friend. I never betrayed him or intentionally hurt him."

"Were you going out with him?" Gryff asked with interest. Loyalty to a friend and loyalty to a loved-one could be different.

"No – it wasn't that kind of relationship" she answered.

"What house are you and Harry in?" Raven questioned.

"I am in Gryffandor" she droned. "The hat couldn't sort Harry – he was technically in all four houses."

"Interesting" Raven mused. But then the Ravenclaw Harry found everything interesting.

Gryff sighed sadly. At least this Hermione was a true friend. "What do you think of the Headmaster?" he asked.

The Harrys could see her frown through her blindfold, and struggle against the command of the drug. "I think Albus Dumbledore is a manipulative, sneaky, and dangerous wizard" she finally answered. Obviously there was much she hadn't said – the veritaserum must be wearing off.

"Fine – can we untie her now?" Badger pleaded. The Hufflepuff loyalty was obviously distressing him, seeing his friend like that.

"Sure" Sal shrugged, gently pulling off the blindfold. "Oh - this might be a bit of a shock, Herm."

Yes, it was. The bushy-haired witch blinked against the light, and then her eyes opened wide. Then wider. Then she did what all surprised damsels in literature do – she fainted dead away.

"I suppose we could have warned her first" Gryff snickered as he grabbed her arm to keep her from tipping the chair over. She was still tied up, but the dead weight was a concern.

"I thought women only did that in the movies" Raven mused, studying the girl.

"Apparently not" Sal smirked.

- - - - - -

Hermione came to a short while later, laying on a comfortable couch and cover with a soft blanket. She blinked her brown eyes a few times and found herself looking into the concerned faces of four Harry Potters. Tears dripped down her face as she sat up abruptly and spat out "who are you and why are you torturing me like this?"

Badger knelt in front of her and held his wand up in a dramatic gesture. "I swear on my magic, Hermione, that we are all Harry Potter and none of us mean you harm."

"H-h-how?" she stuttered, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of a sleeve. "Oh" she gasped, as understanding dawned. "Alternate universes?"

"What? Has _everyone_ heard of alternate universes but _me_?" Gryff blurted out in frustration.

Raven crooked an eyebrow. "Obviously you've heard of them since you are traversing them" he pointed out dryly.

"I mean I never heard of them until Voldy pushed me through to one" he growled and returned his attention to Hermione, who wrapped shaky and pale fingers around an offered mug of tea.

"I don't suppose any of you are f-f-from here?" she asked with trembling hope. Four matching mops of messy black hair shook their heads in the negative. With a deep shuddering breath she asked "all right – why are you here and what do you want from me?"

Four chairs were conjured in a semi-circle facing Hermione's sofa. A table appeared in the middle and everyone grabbed cups of tea. Zippy appeared and started to prepare breakfast in the kitchen he conjured the day before. The bushy-haired girl glanced from Harry to Harry with an expectant look on her face.

"Well," Badger started in, "it seems that Harry Potters tend to travel around a lot. Each of us ended up through the veil to escape Dumbledore and train on easier Voldemorts."

"We are sort of the cosmic glue that holds the magical world together" Raven mused, to himself more than Hermione.

"Er, yeah," Gryff snorted. "Zippy tells us that the fight between us and Riddle is pivotal to stuff. I see all this as practice leading up to my own Voldy problem."

"So you are here to 'practice' on our Voldemort," she pondered, stabbing absentmindedly at the sausages Zippy placed in front of her. She looked up at Badger with brimming eyes. "I'm positive Dumbledore murdered him you know."

"We figured as much" Badger agreed softly. "Did your Harry have any other loyal friends we could ask for help if necessary?"

"Hmmm," the witch murmured, crinkling her brow with confusion. "Ron was kind of his mate. He sort of waffled back and forth." She picked her face up and looked each Harry in the eye. "Ironically, he's flourishing now that Harry is gone. He's really come into his own."

"How so?" Gryff was compelled to ask, as conflicting feelings of revulsion, guilt and even anger flooded his senses.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. "He doesn't feel competitive and jealous anymore. I understand he had everything Harry always dreamed of – loving family, brothers and sister, anonymity. It's just that Harry had what he deeply desired, as shallow as it was. Fame, fortune, attention." She moistened her throat with a sip of pumpkin juice and gazed at the group. "Now Ron is confident, popular, gives reviews willingly to The Daily Prophet… we don't hang together much anymore. But he's happy."

"What about other friends?" Sal asked, leaning back in his seat and observing the group.

"Not having a house, per se, he had many" she shrugged. "Blaise and Pasty, Nevelle, Susan Bones, Cedric before his death, Padma… he was easy to get along with."

Breakfast was finished and cleaned up with an elvin snap of the fingers. Chairs were transformed into comfortable furniture and coffee tables, and the group of teens stood and started milling around.

Badger gave the girl an apologetic look as he transfigured her pajamas into jeans and sweater. "Sorry, Mione – don't want you to catch a chill. It is Saturday, so do you mind hanging with us a while?"

She smiled gratefully at the Hufflepuff copy of her former best friend. "So what do you guys need me for anyway? What are you trying to do, other than destroy Voldemort?"

They sat down together on a leather sofa, idly watching the other Harrys cleaning up more rat bones around the chamber. Badger flicked his wand adding additional torches around the room while chatting. "Revenge on Dumbledore comes to mind" he smiled. "In most universes the headmaster is not a friend to the light. In this one he is totally out of control by the sound of it."

He turned to Hermione. "What about you, Mione? What are your plans after Hogwarts? Return to your folks, the muggle world?"

A wall slammed over the witch's expression as she stiffened and blanked her face. "My parents died last year" she muttered in a monotone. "For good or bad, I'm staying in the magical world."

"I'm sorry," Badger gasped with shock. "I had no idea."

She smiled grimly. "It was all rather hushed up. As was Professor Snape's death along with Harry. I don't know if it's connected or not. The Weasleys adopted me – I live with them at Grimmauld Place during the holidays."

"Snape was killed too?" Sal interrupted with interest. "How and why?"

The various Harrys and Zippy came over to the couple on the couch to listen in. Hermione blushed from the attention and cleared her throat.

"Again, it was all kept quiet. Personally, I think he died trying to protect Harry. Or perhaps the headmaster removed him so he wouldn't protect him. I don't know. His body was found next to Harry's in the Forbidden Forest, both dead from an AK. Nobody knows why they were out there on a school night together."

"Was there a dark mark in the sky?" Raven asked. Hermione shook her head no.

"What happened to Potter Manor and his fortune?" Gryff asked. Find the person who benefits the most and you most likely have your murderer – every detective novel reader knows that.

The witch smiled sadly. "That I _did_ happen to overhear at Grimmauld Place. The Goblins refused to release his estate, and Dumbledore was not keyed to the properties. He was quite angry about it – wanted to move the order to Potter Manor, but he can't find it." She shook her head sadly with the memories. "The Goblins refused to say why they would not declare Harry dead. Perhaps they are clairvoyant and knew you four were coming."

"What is going on with Voldemort?" Sal asked.

Hermione sighed again. A lone tear escaped from her eye as she looked around the room of Harrys. "It's bad. Once Harry and Professor Snape were found dead, he went crazy – everyone is too afraid to confront him. The magical world placed all their faith on a teen – they expected Harry to take care of Voldemort , so when he died they simply gave up. Everyone immediately went crazy – squibs and muggle-borns have been leaving the country in droves."

"That will keep them safe, at least," Badger muttered.

"For now," she agreed. "But it hasn't slowed down the violence. Voldemort immediately started a rampage of murder and violence. When he can't find a muggle-born, he will take a muggle or a muggle sympathizer. The carnage has been sometimes daily, never less than weekly."

"What is Dumbledore and his Order of the Chicken doing?" Sal smirked.

"Same as usual," the bushy-haired girl scoffed. "Close to nothing. As for the 'chicken', Fawkes disappeared when Harry died. Dumbledore claims he's 'on a mission', but I think that a phoenix can not stand being around a murderer."

"Hmmm," Raven frowned, tapping his finger on his chin thoughtfully. "I'm all for haunting Albus and driving him either to a confession or insane. All in favor?"

Every hand in the room raised solemnly into the air.

"First thing we need then is to figure out how to keep our beloved 'leader of the light' from seeing through invisibility cloaks. I take it everyone has one?" Raven asked the group.

Every Harry's head nodded in unison.

"That will make it easier," Raven grinned.

"And more entertaining," Sal dryly added.

"I think you will find his glasses are charmed to see through them, Raven," Zippy spoke up. "Simply clean his glasses with an invisibility cloak and the charm will be negated." The Potter elf looked around the room at the four Harrys and gave them an evil grin. "Dobby," he called out, and stood back to enjoy the four matching winces of dread.

Pop! The crazed house elf appeared in the chamber, eager and hyper as ever. "Somebody call for Dobby?" he asked, then did a double-take. Or perhaps he did a quadruple-take, as his bulging eyes flew from Raven to Gryff to Badger to Sal. Tears welled up and the elf flung himself bodily on the closest Harry, Raven in this case, and wrapped himself around the startled boy's legs, python style. "WAAAAHHHH!!! The GREAT Harry Potter has come back – FOUR of him!" he wailed on the top of his lungs.

Snuffling wetly, Dobby blew his nose into a hanky and entangled himself around the bewildered Raven's knees. "Why four Harry Potters come to this world? Dobby is luckiest elf in universe!" he proclaimed tearfully.

"Good to see you too, Dobby," Raven grinned, prying the elf off his legs. "Why four of us? Dunno – take that up with fate. But here we are – want to help out a bit?"

"Oh yes Harry Potters!" Dobby was beside himself with joy. "Anything Dobby can help with, he will!"

"Even if it means going against the Headmaster's wishes," Sal asked the elf, intently.

The elf looked down and scuffed the floor with his toe. "The elves aren't happy with Headmaster, Harry Potters. We serve Hogwarts, and we _have_ to serve Headmaster, but we don't like it."

"How come?" Gryff asked curiously.

Dobby met his gaze with tears. "Dobby is good elf! Dobby serves school! Headmaster is bad though! We elves know he committed crime against student! Castle tell us!" The elf wailed a fresh bucket of tears. "And that student was you, Harry Potters!"

"So Hogwarts is cheesed off at Albus too," Sal pondered out loud. "That is handy to know." The others nodded in agreement.

"Well, Dobby my friend," Gryff kneeled down next to the sobbing elf, "we have a task for you, if it's ok."

Dobby took long enough to transfer his grip from Raven's knees to Gryff's chest. The boy patted the elf awkwardly on his back and pulled his invisibility robe out from under his shirt.

"Could you please sneak into Albus's office tonight and clean his glasses with this? And please make sure I get it back?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potters," the elf gushed. "Dobby will do!"

"Now we need a game plan," Gryff smirked, "to drive our dear Headmaster over the edge."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Author Notes: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews! So many of your suggestions are extremely helpful and are being worked in. Just a heads up – I won't write slash or overly mature themes. By that I mean I might allude to adult relationships, but I will not go into details and change my ratings._


	16. Revenge of the Raven

**Chapter 16 - Revenge of the Raven**

Raven was huddled in his invisibility cloak. _'Commence with Operation Albus Meltdown,'_ he snickered silently in his thoughts. The time had come, and the four Harrys were now starting with their plot to drive Albus to confession or insanity. Either was good, though both would be wonderful. Green eyes scanned the wood-fenced enclosure in back of Hagrid's hut. It was time to take the potion – and what a potion this was! He withdrew a bulbous glass flask, four inches high and filled with a glowing blue liquid. Between Sal and his efforts they had come up with a masterpiece.

He grabbed the cork with his teeth and pulled it out with a satisfying pop. Pocketing the cork he slammed the contents down. _'Hmmm – minty. Why can't Snape brew something that tastes good?_' he thought to himself. Careful not to expose any of his body from under the cloak, he stretched out a hand to examine it. His exposed skin and shirt sleeve glowed an eerie, unearthly blue – not unlike a ghost.

Smiling with satisfaction Raven glanced toward Hagrid's hut and shed his cloak. Flickering and luminescent, he stowed the precious cloak in a deep robe pocket and crept toward the fenced corral. Glancing around the paddock he picked out the familiar form of Buckbeak the Hippogriff. He clucked his tongue at the beast and called softly, "hey Buckbeak – remember me?"

The gray hippogriff flung his head up and gave a chirp/whinny. Raven bowed low and respectfully, and the animal nodded in acceptance. The boy lifted his eyes and was pleased to see Buckbeak trotting toward him, tossing his eagle head in proud greeting. Grabbing the base of the wing nearest him, the Ravenclaw Harry pulled himself on the beast's back. "Ready for some mischief, boy?" he asked in a low voice. It was time to haunt Hogwarts.

Raven could not remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so thoroughly. Glowing and ghost-like, he steered the hippogriff over the astronomy tower first. Sitting stern and upright, the boy school his face to look as spector-ish as possible, and smiled inside of himself to see two terrified students interrupted from a romantic rendezvous. The young couple gasped and gaped, then screamed and pointed. Harry Potter had returned to haunt Hogwarts.

It was amusing, if not pathetic. The potion did not make him translucent, nor could he pass through solid objects. He could not float or fly. But the human mind is all to willing to believe what it wants to believe, and when people see a blue and flickering person who had died, they just 'knew' it was the ghost of Harry Potter.

Next Raven steered Buckbeak to the Gryffandor tower, where he hovered outside of the 6th year boy's window. Keeping his face stern and unamused, he was able to catch the eye of Ron Weasley before the red-headed boy passed out cold. Again, it was quite satisfying.

A couple more random sightings and he swiftly urged the hippogriff back to its corral. He pulled out his cloak and covered himself just in time to hear a commotion from the castle – an amused headmaster being pulled to the pen by several frantic students, all clamoring at once about seeing Harry Potter on a hippogriff. Raven withdrew to a good distance, well within hearing range.

"As you can see, Mr Weasley," the headmaster chuckled condescendingly, "all the hippogriffs are accounted for. And I don't see Mr. Potter sitting astride any of the creatures."

- - - - - -

The rest of the month went swimmingly. It was challenging to keep his hauntings few and far between – too many would be suspicious. And he didn't want to 'hang out' like the real ghosts of Hogwarts – the potion only gave him the shallowest illusion of a spector that would not withstand close scrutiny. Raven made sure there was a Harry Potter sighting in the library, a semi-empty hall way, and the grounds, the Dungeons near the Slytherin common room, and even early morning breakfast before the teachers arrived. The school was simply buzzing with the news of Harry Potter, returned as a spirit to save them all.

Raven shook his head sadly. They allowed their Harry to be abused – by the Dursleys, the Prophet and Dumbledore. They kept him untrained and clueless, made his short life total misery. And yet they still expected him to do their dirty work and destroy a wizard with years more learning and power. It really was pathetic.

Still, it had been an entertaining couple of weeks. But now it was time (along with his three companions) to step up the intensity. It was time to bring it closer to Dumbledore. Raven started to concentrate more on the library, but now as soon as he was sighted, he would pull out and drop carefully chosen books from the shelves and onto the floor with a loud, satisfying 'bang'.

"Etu Brute; A Historic Look at Famous Betrayals," was the first tome to be publicly pulled by Harry Potter's ghost. Many more followed: "Coping When Those You Trust Hurt You", and "Thirteen Evil Headmasters From Hogwarts", and "Murders Stranger Than Fiction". Raven chuckled – the titles should be so obvious even a Ministry official should be able to figure out what he was getting at. But this _was_ the magical world… anything more subtle than a beater bat to the forehead was usually a lost cause.

- - - - - - -

The room stunk of incense, cheap sherry, and even cheaper perfume. Raven gagged – he always hated divination with a passion. Sitting on one of the silly little poufs, hunched under his invisibility cloak, he watched the tipsy self-proclaimed seer lurching around the room muttering to herself. When Sybyll Trelawney turned to blearily examine something on her desk, Raven stood and removed his cloak, revealing his flickering, glowing self.

The bug-eyed batty professor turning around and gaped. She moaned and swayed on her drunken feet, gasping like a fish out of water. Raven stood silently and stared back, face devoid of expression. Sybil sat down heavily with a crash, but smoothed her robes unconsciously, and steeled her back. "Are you a seer or what, Sybil? Get it together!" he could hear her mutter. The Boy-Who-Lived was impressed – she had more backbone than he gave her credit for.

"Why does the dead walk?" she intoned in a 'mysterious' voice. "Why have you not found rest, dear Harry?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Raven remained quiet a few moments longer, then replied, in an equally spooky voice: "Revenge."

"Revenge?" she asked in fear and surprise. "Revenge against who, you poor dear?"

"The one who wronged me," Raven intoned, slowly lifting his arm and stiffly pointing through the floor in the direction of the Headmaster's office. Boy was this cliché, but it was what it took to get the drunken loon's attention. "My murderer, Albus Dumbledore."

"A-a-a-albus?" Trelawny squeeked in a frightened voice. "Can you prove that? I can't go to him and accuse him – you know how powerful he is!" Raven observed she didn't question the famous leader of the light's guilt, or even seem truly surprised by the accusation – she was just accurately pointing out Dumbledore was a dangerous man to make your foe. The divination professor turned to grab her half-empty glass of sherry and Raven took that moment to conceal himself with his cloak. She turned back to find the ghost of Harry Potter was gone.

Raven left the tower silently as Sybil proceeded to pour the rest of her glass and the bottle into a nearby potted plant.


	17. Revenge of the Badger and Snake

**Chapter 17 - Revenge of the Badger and Snake**

Badger was having his own fun during the infamous month of Harry Potter sightings. He had two favorite places to be seen as a ghost – the astronomy tower and the greenhouses. Many students (and Professor Sprout) reported seeing the flickering specter of the Boy-Who-Died wandering the flower beds aimlessly late at night. And at the tower amorous couples found their passions quenched when looking up from a steamy kiss only to see the smirking, glowing face of their dead schoolmate.

Today was to be the start of a new series of sightings. Badger was crouched in the forbidden forest, his back to Hogwarts and hidden by his open invisibility cloak. He was speaking in parseltongue to a good two-dozen snakes he had called from the woods.

"_Ok – you got it now?" _he asked the hissing serpents. _"One drop each of this potion – you will glow like a ghost for a few hours. Sneak around the castle – make sure to 'disappear' into cracks in the walls and stuff like that. Don't let the humans realize you are real snakes. Come find one of us when you need more potion."_

The snakes all nodded and hissed in agreement. Many simply giggled in parseltongue. Badger brought out the flask of 'ghost juice' and dispensed the drop on the many forked tongues. Then he gathered the luminescent reptiles gently into a blanket, covered himself with his cloak and brought them to the castle.

Over the next month many ghost snakes were seen out and around Hogwarts. The serpents did their job with gusto, appearing and 'disappearing' quickly and silently, paying special attention to the dueling platform anytime it was set up. Girls screamed, boys shuddered, and everyone in the castle knew it was Harry Potter telling the world he was not resting easy in the afterlife.

- - - - - - -

The students milled back to the castle after their Hogsmeade weekend. Sacks full of sweets and trinkets were carted back to respective dorms, and happy, glowing faces told a tale of children that forgot, for one day at least, the school was being haunted by the specter of the Boy-Who-Lived. Forgotten, that is, until chocolate frogs were opened.

Badger grinned in anticipation as he watched some students in the Great Hall tearing into their Honeydukes treats. He was safely hidden with Hermione under his invisibility cloak and perched on a cabinet in a seldom touched corner of the room. There – Susan Bones, sitting at the Hufflepuff table, was opening a frog now! She gaped at the card, ignored the sugary amphibian that was hopping away down the long table, and gave a strangled scream.

Her friends snatched the card out of her trembling hands and shouted out loud. The card that would normally show Merlin, or the four founders, or some such famous wizard showed a full color moving photo of Albus Dumbledore striking down Harry Potter and Snape with the forbidden _Avada Kedavra_.

Seeing a commotion, the headmaster descended from the head table and took the card out of the girl's shaking hand. He glared at it, then Susan. "Fifty points from Hufflepuff," he spat out, crunched the card in his fist and stormed back to the head table, glowering.

But shouts and yells were erupting all over the Great Hall as students grabbed their chocolate frogs to see what cards they had. Nobody was disappointed – every frog held a new card – a new series in the life of Albus Dumbledore's treatment of Harry Potter. There was a sad card depicting the headmaster callously leaving the infant Harry on the Dursley's doorstep. The back described how the headmaster ignored the Potter's will and left Harry to a childhood of abuse and neglect. Another card had an evil-grinning Dumbledore outside of the prisoner Sirius Black's cell. The back of the card described how the master legilimens had to have known of Black's innocence and left him to die in Azkaban. There were 10 cards in all, each showing a different crime by Dumbledore against Harry Potter.

The headmaster tried to confiscate the cards. When that didn't work, he tried to ban them from the castle. But the damage was done – within a week everyone in magical Britain had seen the new, unauthorized chocolate frog cards. Eyes everywhere were looking at the leader of the Wizengamot with suspicion.

Badger and Hermione crept back under the cloak to the chamber. It had been quite fun to make the cards – a little polyjuice to replicate Albus and Snape, Mione's pensieve memory of the day Harry died to copy Albus' robes worn the day of the murder, and some well thought-out scripts was all it took. It was easy to sneak into Honeydukes under a robe and magically swap all the chocolate frog cards with the new ones. Not only was all of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts and Diagon Alley buzzing with the accusations from the cards, it had the added bonus of giving Badger scores of new real cards to complete his collection with.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

While the castle was abuzz with the many sightings of Harry Potter, ghostly snakes and collectable frog cards, Sal was busy elsewhere. He didn't want Dumbledore and the sheep-like students to be the only ones to suffer the unrest of the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was 7:00 in the morning, the day his three 'twins' were going to start haunting the school. He was currently sitting in the prisoner's chair in courtroom six, the very scene of his sham of a trail for defending himself against dementors. The cleaning crew was due any second. Glowing and flickering, Sal sat upright in the prisoner's chair, with feigned nervousness and fear in his face. A house elf entered the room, took one glance, and ran out of the chamber with a squeak of terror.

The elf returned moments later with a wizard in tow. The pair stared in shock at the ghostly Harry Potter, acting as if he were on trial. The specter was glancing nervously around the room and staring at the spot that Minister Fudge stood during a trial. They backed fearfully out the door to run for help. Sal snickered, covered himself with his cloak and left to find Umbridge's office.

- - - - - - - -

The Slytherin Harry reclined comfortably on the bench in front of the rails at platform 9 ¾. With the Hogwart's Express at school, there would not be many folks showing up at the station, but one could always count on a couple wizard tourists wandering in.

Terrifying the corpulent Delores Umbridge earlier in the morning had been most satisfying. Perhaps if she had any knowledge of _practical_ DADA, she might have been able to deal with an angry ghost in her office. After a good rousing wailing (in the pre-selencio'd office), Sal proceeded to shower the trembling excuse for a human being with hundreds of quills. At least she didn't get blood quills like he had. She had to be sedated and taken to St. Mungos, and he had never laid a finger or spell on her.

Sal could hear the buzz of someone accessing the barrier. Swiftly rising to his feet, he grabbed a school trunk that was ready next to him. The trunk was actually oversized so he would appear smaller than he really was – he would be in proportion to his 11 year old size. The trunk was on magically silenced wheels, so even though he was making a big show of dragging the 'heavy' trunk to the train that wasn't there, and looking around like a lost and frightened first year, the whole thing was an act.

He was gratified to hear a sharp gasp and the sound of dropped packages. "Charles! Is that…?"

"It's Harry Potter!!!" a man's voice yelled. This was accompanied by screams and shouts.

Sal, at this point, had managed to drag his trunk to a point where a large pillar blocked him from sight. One swish of his invisibility cloak, and the ghost of Harry Potter disappeared.

- - - - - -

Dudley Dursley was deeply asleep, snoring loudly and dreaming of the all-you-can-pig buffet at the local restaurant, 'The Golden Trough'. The day his mum and dad took him had been one of the best afternoons of his life – steam table after gleaming steam table of tasty food – as much as he wanted! Fried mushrooms, fried fish, fried hamburgers, fried chicken, chips, and more. An ice cream bar! Desserts! Casseroles! It still caused a tangible ache in his heart a year later, recalling the rude way the management threw them out and sternly stated they were not welcome back. He had only been there three hours, and hadn't even made it to the desserts yet!

"Duddums…." a wispy voice called, pulling him from his dreams. "Duddlykins… time to wakey…."

"Hmmmm?" the obese lad snorted, attempting to roll over. It was difficult to move with the amount of 'baby fat' he carried.

"Duddly Wuddly… time to wake" the voice sing-songed in his ear. Opening bleary eyes, he glared ready to chew his mother out for waking him so early. Classes could wait – he was tired.

But it wasn't Petunia Dursley's fawning face he woke to. By the open door of his room stood a ghost. A real live ghost of the freak that used to live with them. Harry was standing still, unmoving and shooting looks of hatred at him.

"MUUUUUMMM!" Dudley screamed on the top of his lungs, throwing his blanket over his trembling head. Like a blanket could stop a ghost or intruder. Sal threw his cloak on and disappeared until later in the week.

- - - - - - - -

Scaring Vernon throughout the week was simple. The man had no heart, no guilt, and Sal felt it was possible he had no soul. But Vernon Dursley did know fear and intimidation. So glowing with the help of the potion, Harry would simply appear to his uncle every time he was alone. Sal would glare and smirk with a threatening expression on his face, punching his fist into his hand repeatedly, and disappear under his cloak when his 'dear uncle' would go running and screaming away.

It did help that Sal had taken an enlarging potion too – he appeared huge, towering over Vernon. The elder Dursley only picked on the small and weak. Big and unafraid was not his choice of targets. Big, unafraid, and a ghost was right out.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Petunia glared at the dishes in the sink. She had loathed the freak her sister had foisted on them all those years, but she also hated having to do her own housework now. Perhaps she could afford a maid when Duddums outgrew his growth spurt and ate a teensy bit less. Dishes, laundry, cooking, dusting, tidying… it was endless! That stupid freak of a boy probably up and died on purpose just to spite her.

She rinsed off a glass with a vengeance and practically threw it onto the draining rack. She wiped her fringe off her forehead with the back of her hand, glancing out the window in exasperation. Wait – what was that?

Silent as the grave her dead nephew was mowing the lawn! The grass was cutting, and the lad was stretching up and straining to reach the handle far above his head. He looked like he was seven or eight again by his size. She could see the sweat glistening on his brow, and noted dispassionately the sad state of his torn hand-me-down rags. With a shriek of fright she realized not only was Harry back, and not only was Harry young again, Harry was now blue and flickering – Harry was a ghost!

Sal smiled inwardly when he heard the blood-curdling scream and 'thump' that was obviously the sound of his fainting aunt hitting the floor. It had been easy to enlarge his uncle's lawnmower to make him appear smaller and younger, and simple to silence it. It was just as easy to make everything disappear with a flick of his wand and wearing of his invisibility cloak.

- - - - - - -

Everyone was out of the house, gone to therapy as one big, neurotic family. Sal swiftly unlocked the back door and let himself in. Smirking joyfully, he proceeded through the Dursley residence setting 'booby traps' ready to go off at various times throughout the upcoming month. There were a handful invisibly placed in the cupboard under the stairs – when someone passes by his cupboard one would randomly 'go off' and play an audio recording, taken from pensieve memories, of Harry's life in his 'bedroom'.

Bitter memories of his childhood – being locked into Dudley's second bedroom, scalded in the tub by Petunia, slaving over a hot stove, pushed down the stairs… the horrible recollections kept coming and coming out of the bag of traps he had fashioned. As Sal placed the last of them, he gave a small shudder of self-pity. No child should have to go through what he did.

He opened the cupboard door one last time and took a glance in. This was it – time to say good bye. It had been cleansing, reliving all the badness with the maturity of a young adult, and knowing his childhood had been cruel and unusual. Sal supposed it was possible that the Dursleys were under some sort of curse or charm to make them hate him, but he really didn't care. Any curse of that nature could be overcome with love and time – the fact they were always hateful to the innocent child just showed what kind of people they were deep down. If confronting their cruelty drove them insane or to suicide, it wouldn't bother him. The only thing that would perturb him was the possibility that the Dursleys would not be affected by the memories in the slightest. Fear, guilt, sorrow – any of those emotions would show at least some small measure of regret. Apathy would be too terrible to contemplate.

So it was with a lighter heart, tinged with sadness, that Sal bid a silent goodbye to Number Four Privet Drive. He had not told the other Harrys that he would be visiting or haunting the Dursleys. The muggles had no means to contact the magical world if they wanted to – for help or to complain – so the torture of his 'loving family' was done totally for his own satisfaction. And Sal would not be checking on them to see the results of his work.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


	18. Revenge of the Griffon

**Chapter 18 - Revenge of the Griffon**

Gryff was sitting in his trunk in the common area, facing a canvas, pallet in hand. He had taken a break from his haunting of Albus and the school to commence with some art lessons with Uncle Archie.

It had been quite a fun month so far. The four 'brothers' had been hard at work, and the castle (and magical world) was buzzing with Harry Potter sightings. There was much speculation as to Harry's motives, and if Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light, could be guilty.

Personally, Gryff had done some long-distance showings where Albus himself could see him. He also haunted the quidditch pitch quite often – it was one of his favorite places. Gryff had also convinced the gargoyle at the base of the headmaster's office to help him out with muttered accusations only heard by Albus.

His favorite 'gag', however, was eyeglasses. He had made hundreds, if not thousands, of replicas of the ugly charity glasses the Dursleys had forced on him. It was a personal sore point in his life – the prescription was never right for him, the frames ugly and broken, yet Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore seemed to agree it was all right to leave the young boy half blind for the sake of a 'signature look'.

As the school was slowly wrapping their brains around the sporadic visitations from the Boy-Who-Lived, the students started finding pairs of glasses. They were left behind on desks, on window sills, and on the edge of sinks in the bathrooms. Glasses were on seats, in the grass on the lawns, and even in the feeding trough in the hippogriff's enclosure. Glasses in the greenhouses, glasses in all the common rooms – one poor stressed child even found a pair inside a cake after dinner. And everyone knew who used to wear glasses like them.

- - - - - - -

"Why does Miss Granger want Peeves here, in this hallway?" the poltergeist asked the young witch suspiciously. She grinned at him in an unusually friendly manner.

"You want to be here, talking to me in front of witnesses for the next, oh, ten minutes or so, Peeves," she giggled. "Trust me on this."

"PEEVES!!!" the headmaster's voice thundered down the hallway, coming from the direction of his office. Albus Dumbledore, beard and hair disheveled and tangled with several pairs of Potter trademark glasses, barreled around the corner, glaring and snarling with rage. "Where were you five minutes ago?" he spat at the poltergeist.

"Um, headmaster?" Hermione squeaked meekly. "Peeves has been right here with me since the end of last period." Several other students nodded in agreement.

The supreme mugwump clenched his hands into fists and roared in anger. He stormed off back to his office.

Gryff was standing in the corner of said office under his invisibility cloak, was grinning from ear to ear. The headmaster's desk was buried under thousands of pairs of glasses. The portraits in the office were wearing matching smiles – it had been an entertaining prank.

- - - - - - - -

The four Harrys, Dobby, and Zippy were wandering down the hall on the way to the entrance at three in the morning. No body was in the halls – the real ghosts of Hogwarts were keeping tabs on the headmaster, and said headmaster had put the school on lockdown. Every student was locked into their respective dorms with their heads of house every night at 9 PM sharp.

"So what is next, Harry Potters?" Dobby asked with wide-eyed exuberance. "Headmaster is about to go completely coo-coo. More punishment for bad headmaster?"

Four Harrys sported four matching grins. Raven was idly flicking lemon drops out of his wand and sending them bouncing randomly down the hall ways. "We've agreed to lay off the headmaster for a few days," the Ravenclaw Harry smirked. "We will start to really work on him after we take care of this world's little Voldy problem."

"Are you ready for him, Harry Potters?" Dobby gasped.

Sal shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, Dobby. We snuck into Snape's private office and went over his notes, and spend quite a few nights taking turn listening in on Order meetings. This Voldemort isn't talented or even that bright. He is just extremely powerful."

"Yah," Gryff chimed in. "His magical core is off the scale – he's not well trained, not very creative, but he has this unholy level of magical power to tap from. He's no match for four Harry Potters though."

"When are you planning to take care of him?" Zippy asked with interest while watching lemon drops rolling around the group of wandering wizards.

"Right now," Badger smiled. "We are heading out the door as we speak."

- - - - - - - -

Like so many of the Voldemorts Gryff had battled in the past year, this one was pretty anti-climatic. Four Harry Potters transformed into four eagle animagus and followed Hedwig to Riddle Manor. Four Harry Potters broke the wards and entered the house, transforming simultaneously into four angry young men. Voldemort, who was alone with Wormtail, had long enough to jump to his feet and gape at the vision of four of his supposedly dead enemy before they blasted him into eternity with four heart-felt _Avada Kedavras_. Sal sent another to Wormtail for good measure, and the Harrys (all but one under invisibility cloaks) picked up the two most hated wizards in Britain and apparated them onto the steps of the Ministry, leaving their bodies in front of a thoroughly shocked auror.

The week that followed had the magical world yet again in an uproar. The auror swore he saw Harry Potter drop off the body of You-Know-Who, and after all the Harry sightings at the school, most folk believed him. Witches and wizards just knew once again they were saved by the powerful and kind Harry Potter, even from beyond the grave.

It was a couple weeks later, at the graduation ceremony for the class of 1996, that the Harrys at last got their revenge on Dumbledore. The headmaster was making the commencement speech, smiling pompously at the crowd of bored students and token Ministry officials seated in the great hall. As he spoke he could see random lemon drops bouncing from the ceiling, but he knew it was probably a prank of poor taste from the Weasley twins. This he could ignore.

But there – standing on the Hufflepuff table – Harry Potter! He was flickering and glowing blue like any other ghost, but seemed somehow more solid. And he was glaring at him with hatred and scorn. The mugwump lost his place in his speech as he looked around the room – why didn't anyone else notice the Boy-Who-Lived? It was because Badger, the 'ghost' in question had his invisibility cloak on his shoulders, making him invisible to the students behind him. Only Dumbledore, facing him, could see the angry boy.

As the headmaster stood there sputtering, gaining looks of concern from the students and staff alike, he caught blue flickering out of the corner of his eye, and there, Harry Potter's ghost was standing by the wall next to the Gryffindor table. Again, none of the students seemed to notice him. Fear gripped his heart, and he gasped and choked.

Harry gave him an evil grin, and swept a cloak over his head, disappearing. 'An interesting way for a ghost to apparate,' Albus thought to himself, 'using a ghostly memory of his father's invisibility cloak.' Dumbledore gave up all pretenses of trying to speak, and stood dully watching Harry Potter disappear and reappear all over the room.

Just as the crowd started getting very restless and worried, the doors to the great hall flung open, and a literal mountain of lemon drops came pouring through the entry. It was as if the full entrance hall had been filled with them, top to bottom, and broke through the doors. When the river of candy finally stopped, the entry was totally blocked, and the hill of sweets twelve foot high sloped down the central aisle, stopping at the headmaster's podium.

Children nervously giggled, McGonagall sputtered and flushed in anger, and Dumbledore trembled, beyond all rage. When the candies finally settled and stopped their noisy shifting, he looked up with a gasp – through the mountain of sweets came the ghosts of Severus Snape and Harry Potter, gliding through the lemon drops like nothing was there. They looked the headmaster in the eye and it was not friendly expressions in the least. Everyone in the room could obviously see _these_ ghosts, as expressed by the gasps and pointing.

The four Harrys were huddled together at the side of the room under their cloaks. "Is that?..." Badger whispered in wonder.

"I think so" Raven answered, just as awestruck as the other three. "I believe those are the real ghosts of Snape and Harry."

Severus Snape and Harry Potter, translucent, floating, and flickering, came to a silent stop in front of the Headmaster, who was gripping his podium with white-knuckled fear. Slowly the former potion's professor and Boy-Who-Lived lifted their glowing arms, pointed in Albus' face, and howled one accusatory word in unison:

"Murderer!!!"

The room erupted into chaos. Girls screamed, boys jumped back and huddled against the walls. Even all the teachers took several steps away. It was a serious matter in the magical world for a ghost to accuse the living of wrongs. The four Harrys had moved on top of cabinets in the back to avoid trampling or having their cloaks pulled off. Who knew what would happen next.

Nobody, however, expected Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light, to whip out his wand and point it at the glowering specters and yell the unforgivable _'Avada Kedavra'_! Thankfully nobody was in back of the ghosts – just a mountain of lemon drops, which exploded and sizzled from the impact of the dark curse.

Teachers, ministry, and members of the DA acted at once. At least fifty '_stupify_'s' rang out at once, dropping the headmaster to the ground. Snape sneered, Harry looked satisfied, they smiled oily smiles, and the two faded away along with the mountain of lemon drops.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It was a strange good-bye party the next day in the Chamber of Secrets. The four Harry Potters, Dobby, Zippy, Hermione, and the real ghosts of Severus Snape and the dead Harry Potter sat around in alternating stunned silence and outbursts of excited chatter.

"So the old goat is dead?" Sal asked the bushy-haired witch. There was a definite lack of caring in his tone of voice.

She gulped a bit, looking a tad green. "Well, when someone that age is hit with that many _stupify's_, it's not good for the heart." Badger gave her a pat on the back, but didn't look very broken up either. "I hated him, and I'm glad he couldn't talk himself out of Azkaban, but it's still a bit of a shock."

Snape looked extremely satisfied. "I knew Albus was at the breaking point and would pull something like that," he exulted. "You four," and he looked at the visiting Harrys one at a time, "did a masterful job. And thank you for taking care of the Dark Lord."

'What's next for you two?" Raven asked the specters curiously, "now that you have your revenge?"

The ghost of Harry Potter smiled. It was a relaxed, peaceful smile. "I'm here to say good-bye to my most loyal of friends. Then I'm off – I've got a lot of catching up to do with my folks and Sirius." He floated over to Hermione and gestured toward Badger with a jerk of his transparent head. "I approve of your plans, Mione. Live a long, happy life, and thanks for being one of the few bright spots in mine while I was on the earth."

Sniffing loudly, she tried to hug the ghost and jerked back in shock. She had forgotten how cold they were. Hermione had to satisfy herself with waving farewell as Harry Potter faded away, leaving the world for good.

"How about you, professor?" Gryff asked Snape with interest.

The dour man looked pleased. "Minerva and the Bloody Baron have convinced me to stay" he smirked. "The Baron is ready to move on, and Slytherin needs a new spirit. _Somebody_ has to keep the dunderheads from blowing themselves up."

"Ah – well everything works out for the best" Sal chuckled. He patted his robe pockets and stood up. "Well, I'm off. It's been fun. OK – it's been interesting." The Slytherin Harry checked for bond terminating potions around his neck, verified his trunk was in his pocket, waved to the group and disappeared off to his next adventure.

"Nothing left for me to say either" Raven smiled. "It was a pleasure meeting everyone – confusing, but a pleasure." He too went through the ritual of checking for everything and he also disappeared into the cosmos.

Snape gave a polite nod to Gryff, Badger, Hermione and the elves and floated through the chamber ceiling. The remaining people all looked at each other with a bit of sadness.

"I'll catch up with you later, Master Harry," Zippy smiled and popped away. Which Harry, he didn't specify, but knowing the nature of house elves as they did, they figured he meant all of them.

"How about you, Mione?" Gryff asked the witch curiously. Voldemort was dead, her best friend laid to rest, her family gone. She only had a year left of school, but could take her NEWTS now if she so chose.

Hermione blushed and looked down, then glanced up at Badger with a smile. "Dobby and I are going with Badger. There's nothing left for me here, and I like the thought of helping so many worlds." Dobby nodded his head exuberantly, ears flapping back and forth.

Gryff was shocked for a moment – it never occurred to him to bring along a companion. But he returned the smile readily and gave her a brotherly hug and shook Dobby's hand. "I wish you all the best, guys. Good luck and happy life where ever you end up."

She shyly looked at Gryff and cleared her throat. "Harry, I know your Hermione and Ron hurt you, and hurt you badly. I know they betrayed your friendship and trust. But please consider giving your Hermione another chance. I can't believe any twin of mine is evil, but I _can_ see where I would be blinded by a less murderous version of Dumbledore." She gave him a hopeful smile. "I would imagine your world is in shambles and she is regretting her loyalties. Just hear her out, and if I'm wrong, I apologize."

He returned the smile, though he felt a little queasy in the pit of his stomach. But perhaps she was right – it would be a relief to know that someone was on his side back home. "OK, Mione. I promise" he said with trepidation.

Everything that was going to be said had been said. The Hufflepuff Harry went through his rituals, patting pockets and checking amulets. Badger, Dobby and Hermione held hands and disappeared, leaving a thoughtful Gryff behind. He picked up a mug of tea and drank it slowly, looking around the room. The conjured sofas and overstuffed chairs would fade with time. The remaining food from their party would go even quicker. It was interesting and even fun to work with three other versions of himself, though he was just as glad to be alone again. But perhaps in the future he _would_ find a companion for himself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So what is the point of criticizing my brush stroke on the shadows here," Harry gestured with the end of his paintbrush, "if the spell work will compensate for poor painting?" The boy stood back and eyed his canvas critically, then dabbed a bit more paint on the area in question.

Uncle Archie was propped up on an easel of his own, facing the painting in progress. His jovial face never lost its friendly expression, but it didn't stop him from being a task master at the pallet.

"Harry my boy," he started in patiently, "I keep telling you. The better the underlying painting, the stronger the magic and the longer the magic will hold."

The young wizard mouthed the second sentence in unison with the painting, and gave a sigh. Archie ignored him and continued with his musings. "Besides, nephew of mine, I can't help but lament how lazy the wizarding world has become. I swear James wouldn't have lifted a spoon to feed himself if he could have found an easy way to do it with magic. Hone the natural talent you have in abundance, dear boy."

"I guess there's no 'Bob Ross' lessons for quick and easy portraiture, eh?" Harry joked. Archie gave him a blank look. "Could you animate a Xerox copy of a photo?" the boy mused. Uncle Archie looked even blanker, if possible.

Harry cleaned his brushes and hung Archie back up. "I'm glad you are with me, Uncle," he mused sadly. "At least you and Hedwig are constants in this crazy life."

The owl hooted softly from a perch in the corner of the room at the mention of her name. Harry reached into his pocket and tossed her a treat, which she deftly caught in her beak.

He popped the top on one of his precious remaining cans of Coke and took a long drink. His thoughts kept drifting back to Badger and Hermione, and how happy they looked to be leaving together. Soul mates, Harry supposed. Destined to be together, even though they had grown up in different universes. Hermione didn't do anything for him, personally. But he envied the pair. Was his life partner waiting back home, or somewhere in a world he hadn't visited yet?

With a sigh Harry picked up his wand. The stone walls in the trunk were just too depressing. It was time for some improvements. Smooth plaster walls for one. Flick, swish, flick swish. Brighter more cheery walls soon replaced cold stone. And brighter more cheery thoughts started to replace the empty ones in his heart. Another world was coming.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Author notes: I know the lemon drops has been done before – I'm sorry, but it's just too good not to use…_

_This was it for fast updates, I'm sorry to say. I have a Harry to do next which I haven't even started! I'm pretty sure it's done in my head, so hopefully it will be up in a week or so._


	19. Oh, WoW

**Chapter 19 – Oh, Wow!**

_Author Notes: Thanks to Wedador, most wonderful warlock, for inspiring this chapter! And Blizzard. Don't own 'em, don't work for 'em. Highly addicted to 'em. I'm afraid this world will not make a whole lot of sense if you don't play World of Warcraft…_

The sensation of changing universes still, but the Boy-Who-Lived kept his eyes closed. He was tired – very tired. Although he had 'only' killed a dozen or so Voldemorts to date, he was beginning to feel the repetition and almost a sense of futility. Wistful thoughts drifted back to Badger and Hermione, and the look of unbridled joy in their faces as they left together. It wasn't envy over Hermione – he gave a small shudder at the thought. He didn't want a smothering mother figure, as nice as she could be at times. Harry wanted a partner.

Harry opened his eyes and looked around, patting the pocket of his robe to feel the comforting weight of his shrunken trunk. Hedwig was on his shoulder, his 'home' was in his pocket, and the amulet and a couple spare bond terminators had arrived safely with him. Now where had they arrived?

He was in a dimly torch-lit cave of some sort. A tunnel was curving away to the left, and he could hear scrabbling, almost rodent like footsteps coming nearer. Harry wanted to push the hood of his wizard's robe away from his face and ears, but there was no time. Wand at the ready, Harry waited as the steps became louder. He blinked in surprise a couple of times as the source of noise came into veiw – it was a rat. A three-foot high rat, walking on hind legs and dressed in clothes.

The rodent looked as shocked as Harry felt. With a loud squeaky voice it cried "you die!" and ran forward to attack the startled wizard with a crude mining pick. Harry fired off and quick and silent _stupefy_, and the rat dropped unconscious before he ever got within striking range.

"Well, that's weird," Harry muttered as he flipped the sleeping rat over and searched his pockets for a wand. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and hooted in agreement. The sentient animal had a few knuts in his pocket and a shiny red apple, but no wand or weapon other than the pick. The young wizard tossed that well out of reach and stood up.

"You don't want that money?" a young voice asked down by his hip.

"GAH!" Harry shouted in alarm. He thought he was alone. Spinning around, he was shocked to see the tiniest person he'd ever seen standing at his side, looking up with friendly interest. Two foot high, with blue eyes and blond hair, the person was reaching with hungry hands toward the knuts Harry left next to the rat.

"Ask him if he wants the apple, too!" another voice called from the tunnel, coming into the cave. They were joined by another small person, who had to be related. They looked disturbingly familiar, but Harry could not put his finger on it.

"Um, no… but isn't that kinda stealing?" Harry asked in confusion. The two small men, both with a strange mix of leather armors partially covered by a knightly tabard, looked up in surprise as they divided the few copper coins between them.

"Stealing? From kobolds?" The slightly larger of the two looked at him in amazement. "Part of the bounty on the varmints is you get to keep whatever you find on them!"

"Yah," chirped the younger of the must-be brothers. "It's not like they didn't steal it from the Alliance in the first place."

"Alliance?" Harry asked weakly. Where did he know these guys from? It was right at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite spit it out. And the vague familiarity wasn't accompanied with a warm happy feeling – it was a more of a sense of 'oh no…'.

"You aren't part of the Horde, are you stranger?" The older one sort of growled. Well, it was a growl if you are two foot high with proportional vocal cords. He whipped out the cutest little sword and pointed it at Harry's knee cap.

"Horde?" Harry said, biting back a laugh. They were just so tiny and, well, adorable.

"Make him pull back his hood, Collin" the younger one said, gesturing with a tiny barbed mace.

Collin? Oh no – it couldn't be. Harry slowly got down on his knees and pulled his cowl back with one hand, looking intently at Collin. It was. A miniature Collin Creevey stood there, with his brother Dennis, trying to look intimidating. "Creevey?" he asked in wonder. "What happened to you guys?"

"Harrypotter?" they asked in unison. They came closer, staring in disbelief – especially at his ears, chin and feet. "What happened to _you_?"

"Ya, it's me, sort of" Harry said warily. "Um, do you have someone in authority I could talk with?" Hedwig hooted softly, feeling her human's agitation. He wasn't sure who to trust or to talk to, but at least the Creevey brothers appeared to be as open and honest as they were in his world. Just a tad shorter.

"Authority?' Dennis asked curiously. "What – the headmaster, or King Anduin Wrynn?"

Harry sat back heavily against the stone wall, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Headmaster. Dumbledore? Good or bad in this universe? He heard a scrabbling coming down the hall, casually lifted his wand and stunned another kobold as it came around the corner.

"Cool!" yipped Collin. "I didn't think you were a priest, Harrypotter!"

He looked at Collin thoughtfully, and then his owl. Hedwig seemed perfectly comfortable with the boys – she was even letting Dennis pat her. She was always an excellent judge of character, so he decided to trust them.

"Guys – I'm Harry. Just Harry." He paused briefly to take a deep breath. "I don't doubt you have a friend named Harrypotter that looks like me. But I'm from another world."

"Portal?" Dennis asked, looking up from the snowy owl.

"Summoned?" Collin asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"Different world entirely" Harry smiled, rising to his feet. "I'm here to help – I imagine you have a problem with Voldemort?"

The boys looked at each other grimly. "Voldymort?" Collin asked. "Yes, you could say that."

Dennis nodded his head in agreement. "Powerful warlock – we figure he must have a 90 in training and experience."

"What level are you, Harrypotter?" Collin asked with large, adoring, disturbing eyes.

Harry looked down, massaging his neck. He hoped some of the folks in this universe were his height, or he'd be spending all this time spelling the cricks away. "I'm not sure what you are talking about there. My world was structured differently."

The boys nodded in unison, and with a friendly come-on gesture started down the tunnel to meet the headmaster. With trepidation Harry followed. In a few short minutes they were out of the cave and out in the open air. The wizard looked around with curiosity, and Hedwig gave an eager hoot. "Go on, girl. Have fun," he said and motioned the owl off his shoulder. She jumped into the air and flew through the trees.

The trio was walking across green grass with enough trees to be considered a forest. There were outcroppings of rock that glinted with copper, and Harry could see many people, wolves and bears wandering the wood. The people were attacking the animals, and the tiny boys at his side did not seemed concerned or willing to help.

Walking through a break in the forest, they came across a large white stone wall with a guarded opening. "What's this?" Harry asked with interest. Hogwarts it wasn't.

"This is Northshire Abby – where the school we graduated from is, and where our guild is based" Collin answered with evident pride as they stepped through the gate and made their way through the vaulted walkway to the interior court.

"We graduated last year," Dennis broke in excitedly. "We've been fighting hard for the alliance. Collin and I are both engineers – we build stuff for use in war!"

They were making their way to a large white stone building. It wasn't a castle – more like a huge church or something. Harry could hear the strains of a men's choir coming through the open windows, and he stopped in his tracks, listening intently.

"What's the matter, Harrypotter?" Collin asked with concern.

He wrinkled his forehead with concentration. "That song – I've heard it before. What is it?" Again the answers eluded him, and it was driving him spare.

"That's the theme song to our school, Harrypotter" Dennis smiled with pride. "Our choir practices constantly!"

Then it hit Harry, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. That song. He had heard it over and over again coming from Dudley's room last summer. And thankfully he hadn't seen much of Dudley that year. Aunt Petunia would gush and swoon how her little Duddleykins was busy programming his new computer, and Uncle Vernon would threaten him every night with extreme pain if he disturbed his hard working son. Dudley wasn't programming or even working. He had been playing a game – _this_ game, evidently. And now Harry was playing too.


	20. The Best Guild

**Chapter 20 – The Best Guild**

Inside Northshire Abby, as Harry learned the building was named, the Micro-Creeveys led him to a common area, much like the Gryffandor common room. While trying to frantically remember anything he could about Dudley's 'programming' last summer, and coming up empty, he was introduced around the room while Colin ran to find 'Guild Master Dumbledore'.

Ron stood up and shook his hand in a friendly but slightly wary manner, introducing himself as "Ronald the Red, Warrior". He looked like the same Ron, but instead of hand-me-down wizard robes, he was decked out in plate mail, just like a knight, with a pair of efficient looking swords at his sides.

Hermione stood from the corner where she was studying an ancient looking book and smiled and introduced herself as a priest. She too looked identical to his home world, with the exception of her clothing, which seemed to be a floor length dress of heavy wool. "Priest?" Harry asked curiously. "What does a priest do?" She had never struck him as the religious type, and for some reason the Creeveys thought he was one.

The girl flashed a warm smile. "I am a healer, kind sir. In battle I do not partake in the fight as much as I keep my friends going." The others in the room were giving her nods and grins of obvious gratitude and affection. The know-it-all had been replaced with a nurturing woman of evident importance. "How is it you look so much like our Harrypotter, yet so different?" she asked, missing the intense 'I've got to find out' attitude of her double.

Harry smiled and sat on the arm of a large comfy chair. "I haven't met your Harry yet," he smiled at the group. "I'd like to talk to your, um, Guild Master before I feel at liberty to explain myself."

"That makes perfect sense" a voice behind him said. Harry perked up with recognition and twisted around. "Neville?" he asked, and stopped in shock. The voice was Neville's, the face was kind, but the appearance wasn't what he expected.

"Aye" his friend said with a formal bow. "Neville Longbottom, Paladin. At your service."

The Boy-Who-Lived awkwardly returned the bow as he gaped. Neville in this universe came up to his waist, and sported a thick black beard that tumbled down his chest. He was build like a 4-foot ox – broad and strong, and sporting plate armor, with a wicked looking mace at his side. He reminded Harry of the dwarves in Lord of the Rings.

Neville looked over in back of a chair and chuckled, "Luna, wake up and say hi."

Harry then noticed a very large black panther-ish cat stretching and yawning with enormous saber-tooth fangs. The feline sat up, almost looking Harry in the eyes, and the wizard marveled at the animal's long rabbit-like ears. The cat blurred, stretched and morphed, and standing in front of him, holding out her hand in greeting was Luna. Sort of. Luna was now a good six-foot tall, with long rabbit like ears, foot long wispy eye brows, but the same amused smile on her face. "How do you do?" she politely asked.

"Er, um, fine?" Harry stammered. "Are you an animagus?"

The blond haired girl, who was obviously an elf in this universe, gave him a puzzled look. "Animagus? That's a funny name for a druid."

Druids, pallidins, warriors, engineers, and priests. It was a strange universe Harry had stumbled into. He looked into a darkened corner and realized with a start that Ginny had been sitting there, examining him with calculating eyes. She stood gracefully and approached him with a friendly yet reserved look. Dressed head to toe in tight black leather, Harry would not begin to guess what she was.

"Ginny the Shadow" she greeted him with a hand shake. Harry blushed, trying not to look at her tightly clad body.

"She's a rogue" Hermione answered without looking up. "The Guild Master will explain I'm sure" she said and gestured in back of him. Harry spun around – yes, here was Dumbledore – in long flowing robes that were not as garish as his home's version was. He spared one last glance at the amused Ginny, and turned back to the ancient wizard.

"Dumbledore at your service" the mugwhump bowed. "Collin here has been telling me about you – you certainly do appear to be from an alternate universe. Please allow me to introduce your twin from this world."

A lone figure came through the door from in back of Dumbledore. He gaped at Harry, who stared, dumfounded, in return. Yes, it was Harry Potter, sort of. Where Harry was small for his age, slender, and, well, _human_, Harrypotter of the alliance was tall, hulking, blue skinned, with hooves instead of feet, tentacles on his face, and glowing green eyes. The strange alien Harry shared the messy black hair , scar and face of the earth-born one, but was dressed in robes like the headmaster's and carried a tall staff.

The next few hours were a blur of confusion. Harry really wished he had snuck into Dudley's room at some time during that summer and checked the game out so he could better understand what was going on in this universe.

It appeared that the people of this universe had strict limitations as to what they could and could not do – each race or type of being was trained into a rigid class system. The classes were all co-dependent on each other to survive and win in the war. Priests, like Hermione, could heal, and wonderfully at that. But her robes were only cloth – anything heavier or too protected with magic would interfere with her healing ability. Warriors, like Ron, were like the knights of old – strong, versatile with his skills in weapons and fighting, but could do no magic like Harry understood it.

Luna was sort of like animagus from Harry's world. The druids could do magical dueling spells, and turn into a number of animals, but the kinds of animals were very limited. Neville was a paladin – a sort of holy knight/warrior with healing abilities. And Ginny… Harry was amused to see her as a rogue. Rogues were skilled thieves – not all evil or bad, but stealthy, deep thinking, cautious, and brutal in attacking from the rear. It fit.

The guild system was vital to the universe. It kept friends in close touch, and let them pool off of each other's skills and talents. The Creeveys, gnomes Harry had learned, were both engineers by trade, and kept the group supplied with ingenious weapons and cunning tricks. Neville was a blacksmith, who made fabulous armor, and Luna made potions with a passion. It was good way of living when you had friends you could trust.

Harry was laying in the bed he was assigned in the men's dorm. Some of the guild was off on a raid, others off on personal time, some training and others doing local deeds to keep in the good graces of the town. The Boy-Who-Lived had his fingers laced under his head, laying on his back and staring at the beamed ceiling. Everyone was so close here – happy, joking, trusting. Even though Voldemort was strong – a warlock they told him – they had an unending sense of 'it will all work out in the end'.

The exotic Harrypotter was so, well, unscarred in this world. Harry turned on his side and gazed across the room, unseeing. The lightening bolt that marred his life was on the strange Draenei's head also, but this young man had never tasted the bitter betrayal of his friends, the loss of his godfather, or the scorn of his school. He was loved, appreciated, and respected, as were the entire guild.

"What's the matter, mate?" Ron asked gently from his bed across the room. The red-haired Weasley was sitting comfortably sharpening one of his two long, wicked looking blades.

Harry looked up with a start – he hadn't realized there was anyone else in the room. He examined him for a second, sighed, and finally spoke. "I dunno – it's so, well, _nice_ here." His reply was tinged with envy, wonder, and sorrow.

"Nice?" Ron raised a questioning eyebrow. "We are in constant battle – is this better than your world?" He set his stone down and replaced the sword reverently back in its scabbard.

Green eyes crinkled with mirth. "Yes – here you have close friends. Your Harrypotter has support I never had. My Ron and Hermione and the whole school hated me half the time. I was always alone."

"Why didn't you join another guild?" Ron asked, bewildered. "A man needs the support of his friends!"

"It's really hard to explain, Ron," Harry sighed again. "My world is very independent, very screwed up."

Harrypotter chose that moment to enter the room. The quiet 'clopping' of his hooves on the stone floor was a tad unnerving, but Harry greeted him warmly none the less. "Am I to understand you wish to help us defeat Voldemort?" the Draenei asked him hopefully. "He has been a thorn in the Alliance's side forever it seems."

The human Harry sat up on his bed and patted the spot next to him, figuring it could support the additional weight. The blue skinned Harry sat down and waited, examining his twin is clear curiosity. Harry returned the favor – just what were those tentacles for anyway?

"Have you battled Voldemort at all yet?" he asked, eyeing the long staff his twin always had on him. It was like a giant version of his own wand, so he figured it worked pretty much the same.

"Oh yes, Harry" he nodded emphatically. "We have dueled many times. I just can't get around his minions – those blasted demons give him the advantage. I freeze him, sheep him, Hermione keeps me healed, but his minions are like fighting two to my one."

'_Sheep him?' _Harry thought. _'I won't ask. I really don't want to know.' _"OK," he nodded, pondering the sheep thing. "Why don't your friends join in?"

"That is not the way one duels!" Harrypotter looked shocked and affronted. "It can not even be done – the cosmos will not let us!"

Harry tapped his finger on his chin as he considered this. This world obviously worked with the restrictions of a computer game – characters were not capable of breaking out of their tight confines, although they rarely truly died – they had the ability to bring each other back from the spirit world. He glanced around the room to see all his friends nodding in emphatic agreement. All right then – no ganging up on the wanker. "What would happen if Voldemort is really and truly killed – beyond resurrection?" he finally asked.

"Life would be different" Hermione joined in. "I have considered this, and studied. The whole social structure of the Horde would change without a strong leader. But how can one permanently die?"

The Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. "Easy. Destroy the body. No body, no rezzing."

Neville huffed in his growly, dwarfy voice. "Aye – that would work – but how do you destroy one's body? Harrypotter here is one powerful mage, yet his fire spells do not do more than arcane damage. None of us have that kind of ability."

Harry gave a laugh and pulled his trunk out of his pocket. He enlarged it with a wave of his hand and motioned the gang down the stairs with him. Ooohs and aaaahs sounded off the walls as the bunch explored the small house, learned about plumbing, and enjoyed the taste of butterbeer and coke.

Slipping away from the crowd for a moment, Harry got a bond terminator from his potion lab and handed it to his twin. "Keep this handy – you must take it within an hour of killing Voldy so you aren't killed with him."

"One hour effectiveness – fine" Harrypotter nodded.

"It's a one-use thing – don't swallow it on a whim." Harry cautioned him. "We will head out and I'll kill your Voldemort for you – I don't have the restrictions you do."

The rest of the night was spent in frolicking fun. Moving between the trunk (which Dumbledore was fascinated with) and Abbey, Harry enjoyed the company of his friends has they should have been back home. Loyal, brave, smart, unique – all the qualities he admired in his real friends were here, but stronger, more pure. There was no jealousy, no bickering – just firm trust and affection between the people, who welcomed him with open arms.


	21. Rez This!

**Chapter 21 – Rez this!!**

Sipping his fifth butterbeer of the night, Harry was leaning heavily on the mantle, next to Uncle Archie's portrait. Both were watching Ron chatting up Hermione, and Luna, in the form of a bear, dancing on her hind legs.

"What is the matter, nephew?" Archie asked quietly so the guests wouldn't' hear. "Why so glum looking?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "I like them, Uncle. All of them. And they like me."

"So what is the problem?" His 'Uncle' gave him a warm look of encouragement.

"Why can't my friends back home be like this?" Harry sighed. "My life would have been so different – even without my folks – if I had friends like this in Hogwarts."

Archie looked at the crowd and crinkled his laughing eyes. "You have them now – enjoy them for this season. But don't get caught up in this world – it is strange in my opinion."

The young man gave an angry snort. "Ya – folks liking Harry Potter is a bit 'round the bend I'd say."

His Uncle gave him a pitying look. "That is not what I meant, nephew. You have made many friends on your travels, and from what you have said there are some loyal companions back in your land. But look at these folks," he gestured dramatically at the crowd. Dennis was perched on Collin's shoulders, both drinking heavily and flirting with Ginny, who was looking at them with lustful amusement. Harry blinked a few times – ok – Ginny the Shadow was a bit of a loose cannon in this universe.

"Where are their families, Harry?" Archie continued gently. "I have not heard the sound of children, yet this is a school? Where are the grandparents, the homes, the _reality_ here?"

Harry was thunderstruck. Uncle Archie was right – it was only a computer game. And in computer games most folks don't want to deal with spouses, children, extended families, bathrooms, taxes, and the list went on. This was not reality. Not as Harry knew it, at least. He turned away from the crowd and gave the portrait a grateful look. "You are right, uncle," he whispered. "They have each other, but nothing else. Nothing. What are they fighting for?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

He had considered attempting to teach his magic to the guild. But after a couple of tries with Ron, Hermione, and his twin, they came to the conclusion it was futile. The restrictions in this cosmos were too rigid – the 'players' could not break the bonds of their class limitations.

So Harry took a crash course in Warlock abilities. They were not kept secret – there were no hidden spells or branches of magic Voldemort could tap into. All he had was intellect and power – his range of 'weapons' was cast in stone and unchangeable.

The Guild, The Order of The Phoenix, stood on a windy hill opposite the depressing castle of Lordaeron as Harrypotter downed the bond terminator at Harry's prompting. The sky was gray, the grass was gray, and the undead warriors that listed and shuffled around the grounds were gray. Neville stepped boldly toward the gates and the zombies cleared a path – obviously holy warriors and undead do not mix.

"We are here to challenge Lord Voldemort!" the dwarf Neville's voice rang out. Mocking laughter echoed from the battlements, but after a long wait, one of the huge oaken doors to the keep swung open, and out strode the leader of the Horde.

Surrounded by sucking up underlings, Voldemort looked like Tom Riddle. Missing was the reptilian skin and red eyes from his rebirth in Harry's universe. Young, strong, handsome and charismatic, the warlock stopped in front of Neville with scorn and arrogance shining in his perfect features. "Are you going to challenge me this time, paladin? Where is Harrypotter?"

Harry, with a ceremonial flag of dueling stepped forward. "I challenge you, Voldemort," he called. Funny – in this world Harry didn't feel even apprehensive. He was concerned – a fighter that is too relaxed is bound to fail. But this world was almost a joke at this point. With a thrust he drove the flag into the ground and stood expectantly.

"And who might you be?" Voldemort sneered at the Boy-Who-Lived. "You are dressed like a mage, but I see no weapons, other than a wand. A level one wand at that! You are wasting my time – just run ahead to the graveyard – that is where you will end up."

"Are you afraid, Tom?" Harry mocked in a quiet, calm voice.

Voldemort's head snapped up in anger, eyes blazing with fury. "What did you call me?" he hissed dangerously. "Nobody calls me by that name! I paid large amounts of gold to change it – that name is dead!"

Harry snorted. With a shrug he got into dueling position. "So will its owner be, in just a few, Tommy."

The duel was fast and over with in record time. Voldemort was expecting just another mage – a mage with poor gear at that. He was not expecting a seasoned fighter with no restrictions of class, race, or universe. Harry threw up several powerful shields, hit him with a few _reductos_, cutting hexes, blasting hexes, and squished the warlock's creepy minion with a casually conjured anvil. Harry loved that trick.

Voldemort was sweating. He kept trying to send shadow curses at him. He tried to cast fear on him, weakness, corruption, and agony. He tried to drain his life and his soul. But every spell he sent was stopped by an invisible wall or barrier. The leader of the Horde was weakening – his energy getting dangerously low to where he would be unable to cast another spell without resting or drinking a potion, but this mage wasn't even breathing heavily.

The Order was stunned. Some of the members knew that Harry didn't have class restrictions, but most just thought he was a good and true friend with no special abilities. To see one individual heal, blast, summon, conjure, and even fist fight was something new, extraordinary and unheard of.

The Horde surrounding Voldemort were beginning to panic and run away. Out of the corners of his eyes Harry could see the guild step in and start to decimate their ranks. Harry wasn't sure why they bothered – they would be back in an hour, but that was plenty of time for him to finish this job.

Riddle was standing, leaning on his staff and panting with exhaustion, glaring with hatred at Harry. "Who are you, boy?" he snarled.

Slowly, deliberately, Harry lifted his bangs off his forehead to show his scar. "I'm Harry Potter, Tom. Just not the one you usually play with," he grinned. Riddle's eye widened in fear and recognition – evidently there was some sort of prophecy here too. As Voldemort tried to grab a potion, Harry swiftly cast a _petrificus totalus_, and then an _incendio_, pouring all his strength into it.

Voldemort screamed in agony – his flesh bubbling and searing and turning to ash as he died. Harry kept his concentration, not letting up on the spell, until the screams were stilled, the warlock was dead, and the body reduced to a pile of ashes. Stunned silence surrounded the lonely hill where the duel had taken place, as the Horde realized their leader was gone, dead beyond resurrection, and the Alliance, stunned with what had just happened, understood they had won.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Back at the Abbey the celebration was going full tilt. Dumbledore and Harrypotter had a long private debrief with Harry before joining the party. They came to the conclusion that the only way to defeat Voldemort was to break all restrictions to get around his high level of strength, and the only one who could do that was someone from another universe.

"What now, Harry?" his twin asked with curiosity. "You could stay here with us – the guild loves you and owes you. It will be interesting to see how the Horde restructures, or if they even can."

The Boy-Who-Lived smiled sincerely but shook his head. "I appreciate it, mate. But its time to move on. I have a job to do." With a firm hand shake to the blue-skinned Harrypotter, he stood and watched the crowd for a bit. Loyal, wise, and nurturing Hermione. Brave, supportive, bold Ronald the Red. Spacey, funny, other-worldly Luna, now flying around the room as a large raven. The Collin boys, still worshipful and annoying, but also inventive and clever. Neville – strong, confidant, moral. And Dumbledore – all knowing, sharing his knowledge, protective and caring. In many ways this was how back home should have been. But so much was missing here.

With a private smile he slipped from the room to a quiet and empty room. Shrunk trunk in pocket, wand in pocket, bond terminators on a chain around his neck, Hedwig flew through an open window and landed on his shoulder with a happy hoot. It was time to go.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Author Notes: Honestly, I'm not sure if this world 'works' that well. But I wanted Harry to have a break – a world where everything and everyone was on his side. No conflicts, no drama, no angst – a vacation from reality. He hasn't learned anything, improved any skills, but for a short time he was able to enjoy the support and respect of all the people who should have been his loyal friends. I did not develop any of these characters on purpose – I wanted them to seem unreal and shallow, like a computer game. And I wanted Harry to understand that such a perfect place wasn't natural for him – Harry Potter will always live a life with conflict and drama._

_I have Harry's next world almost done - it will probably be a couple weeks before the next posting. But the two worlds after that are finished, so there will be a run of fast postings for a while._


	22. The Small and Servile

_Author Notes: I don't own Harry Potter. No fooling. I wouldn't lie about that. Oh yah – this chapter is dedicated to my son, who complained I never dedicate anything to him. Only my whole life – but that's ok. I'll just sit here in the corner, alone, and write…_

**Chapter 22 - The Small and Servile **

The young, round faced boy sat at the table across from his frowning grandmother. Tongue poked out between lips, sweat glistening on his brown, the child was studiously writing with his quill, copying lines from a crumbling, much used history book. Finishing the line, he looked up hopefully, pushing the parchment toward the disapproving matriarch.

"Better, Neville," the old woman sniffed. "One more time – and watch your lower-case 'g's' this time.

Neville Longbottom sighed and dipped his quill into the ink. '_Frank and Alice Longbottom were leaders of the light' _he wrote, line after line. This was after reciting the story of their murders at the hands of Bellatrix LeStrange and Voldemort to his strict grandmother. Everyday it was the same – history lessons that were mostly about his families past, the rise of You-Know-Who, and his grandmother's great expectations of him.

The child gazed out of the window longingly, watching the sun warming the inviting plants in his private garden as his grandmother went over his parchment with a fine-toothed comb. He wished it didn't have to be like this. He was only 10 years old, for crying out loud – other ten year olds were playing and having fun during the summer. Not Neville though. He had to study extra hard because he knew what he was. It had been drummed into his head enough times.

Augustus Longbottom frowned as she watched her grandson gazing dreamily out the window. "Later, Neville," she sniffed. "Playing outdoors is for other children. You have a destiny to prepare for."

The child turned sad brown eyes to her, unconsciously rubbing the long scar on his forearm, and silently mouthed the often repeated words in unison as she spoke them:

"After all, you are not only a near squib – you _are_ the Boy-Who-Lived. You must train harder than the others to prepare for your destiny."

----------

"Harry!" A loud squeaky voice called, stirring him from muzzy dreams. "Harry! You must be waking up now!"

Harry sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. Where was he? He squinted at the dim light coming through a vent in a small, sharply angled door. Rats – judging by the door and his relative size to it, he was back at the Dursleys and young again. He experimentally stretched and gasped as pain shot across his back. Yep – he'd been beaten – it was the Dursleys. But who was whispering at him in a worried, yet kind voice?

He pushed the cupboard door open and squinted to adjust to the rush of bright light. Slowly the face came into focus – the face of a worried and harried looking house elf. The boy gasped in surprise and realized that the closet he was in was not the Dursley's after all, but in some other home. A very fancy and grand one, from what he could tell staring over the elf's shoulder. How could he see – he wasn't wearing glasses.

"Come, Harry! Youse bad sleeping in! Masters awake any minute – you don't want more beatings!" The elf grasped him by the hand and frantically yanked him out of the cupboard. Harry stood and realized he looked the panicking elf eye to eye. Stunned, he looked at his hand still firmly grasped in the other elf's hand. It was green. He was a house elf.

Harry stood in shock, gaping dully at the elf, noting they were wearing matching tea towels. How did he end up an elf, for crying out loud?

"Ooooh Harry! You know Masters said if you mess up one more time, it's, it's, " and he dropped his voice to a trembling whisper _"clothes"_. Again the elf tugged, and Harry willingly followed him through a huge estate he had never seen before. It definitely wasn't the Potter's. They arrived at a kitchen and the elf threw an apron at him, which he obediently tied around his small waist, and pushed him toward a table. "Now make sweet rolls! Masters be awake in only one hour!"

He looked over the table – this he could do. He had made sweet rolls for the Dursleys countless weekends, never being allowed to have one for his own. Harry knew the recipe by heart, and all the ingredients he needed were here, the dough rested in a bowl and ready. With a confused shrug he took an empty bowl and started on the filling, glancing around the room in confusion.

"Youse lucky, youse is," the strange elf continued in a worried squeak. "I thought masters kill you last night. Lucky I had healing potion hidden away – keep you from dying. Not enough to heal you all, but keep you from dying."

"Thank you," Harry answered cautiously, and winced at the squeaky voice that came out of his mouth.

"No need to thank Raffy" the elf shook his head, looking pleased and relieved just the same. "Harry do same for Raffy many times. We stick together. Elves look out for elves."

Harry, working on auto-pilot, rolled out the sheet of dough and covered it with the cinnamon filling. So he was an elf. An abused and owned elf. So he wasn't a Potter. Was there a Harry Potter in this world? Was there a Potter Manor he could access? Glancing over at Raffy, who was busy frantically whipping eggs for omelets, he reached down and felt his neck – the amulet and bond terminators were there. He patted his hip and gave a sigh of relief – his trunk was in a pocket of the tea towel he wore, still safe.

Raffy lined the bowls of omelet makings up by the stove and glanced at the kitchen clock. "I check with Bibi – masters be waking soon." With that the elf scampered out of the kitchen.

With a soft 'pop' Harry looked up to see Zippy gazing at him with sad, pitying eyes. "Welcome to reality 3,522, Master Potter. It's a bit different than what you are used to."

Harry cut the dough into individual rolls and put them on the baking pan. With a nod at Zippy, he carried it over to the stove, jumped on the small stool and opened the oven, setting the pan inside. He was bursting with questions, but didn't want to get Raffy or himself in trouble by not completing his task. Wiping his hands on his apron he asked the Potter elf, "how long do we have to chat?"

Zippy made some intricate hand movements around the room. "I have just frozen time for a bit – we have perhaps ten minutes. Your bread will not burn in that time." He gazed at Harry sadly and waited.

"OK, Zippy. I'm an elf. Where is Harry Potter in this world?" Harry sat down on a crude bench and nibbled on a stale biscuit.

The Potter elf sighed and joined him. "There is no Harry Potter in this world, Master Harry. There is only Harry, owned elf. You are the Elf-Who-Lived, though the wizards don't realize it. You were owned by the Longbottoms, and it was you that reflected the killing curse that night. Young Neville got the credit and is being raised by his grandmother as the Boy-Who-Lived. You were sold because the scar 'disfigured' your face and Augustus Longbottom didn't want to see anything that reminded her of that night."

Harry shook his head a few times – this was hard to swallow. "Do the Potters exist?" he asked, wrinkling his brow.

"Yes, Master Harry. But they never had a son. They live, and have three daughters. They were never attacked by Voldemort." Zippy walked around the kitchen tidying up while Harry came to grips with the information.

"My trunk is in my pocket – is it safe, or where can I hide it?" Harry patted the truck again, mostly for the feeling of comfort it gave him.

Zippy smiled at Harry. "Anything on an elf's person is safe from wizard eyes and touch. Even if your masters frisked you, they would not find anything. This is a gift of the elf, so we can never be accused of stealing."

"I have my trunk – why not anger my masters enough to give me clothes then?" Harry mused out loud. Zippy paled and shook his head frantically.

"No, Master Harry!" he squeaked. "Clothes are a danger to elves! Dobby was a rare exception, because he needed to be independent to help you. To your typical elf, the breaking of the bond with your master means insanity and death. You must not get clothing."

"OK," Harry sighed with a shrug. "No clothes, keep masters happy. Where is Dobby in this world? With the Malfoys still?"

The suited elf shook his head, still giving Harry apologetic looks. "Dobby is vital to most universes, but not this one. There is no need for a helper to the Boy-Who-Lives, since there is none here."

"Who are my masters anyway?" Harry asked with curiosity.

But at that moment Zippy turned his head sharply toward the kitchen door and disappeared. Raffy came trotting through, sniffing the air appreciatively. "Rolls smell good, Harry. Masters Malfoy wake now – I start eggs."

Malfoy. Harry groaned softly. This wasn't an alternate dimension – this was hell.

-------------------

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the greatest wizarding school in the world, gazed at the book in front of him while shaking his head in frustration. With a casual flick of his wand he warmed his now cold cup of tea and dipped his head into the glowing pensieve yet again. Listening to the hollow, possessed voice of Trelawney for possibly the thousandths time, he shook his head again. What was he missing?

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

The ancient wizard slurped his tea loudly and popped a lemon drop in his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. Who could Sibyll have been talking about? True, young Mr. Longbottom was born late July, and his parents, famous aurors, had battled Voldemort three times, but he was so magically weak, despite all the extra care and work given him. Oh, binding the child's core didn't help that, but there was no undercurrent of strength in the boy. The Potters fit the prophecy's description too, but didn't have their first child until a year later – and it was a girl. Powerful as the young witch appeared to be, the prophecy clearly indicated a 'he', not a 'she'.

He flipped through the book again. It was a copy of the French birth records for that fateful year. Three boys were born in late July, but two of them were certainly squibs, and the third had died in a freak flooing accident. And Voldemort had not marked any of them, as he had young Neville. The long, deep scar on his forearm was a marking if ever there was one.

The signs all indicated that Voldemort wasn't really dead – merely removed from his body at the curse's rebound. He would be back. And signs all pointed to young master Neville as the Boy-Who-Lived. But it was wrong – it felt wrong, smelled wrong, tasted wrong. And Albus Dumbledore was rarely wrong. Was there another the child of the prophecy, and how could he get his hands on him if there was?

With a deep sigh he drummed his fingers on his desk, gazing out the window unseeing. He would just have to keep encouraging Augusta to train the lad, hoping he could get pushed into showing some ability. It wasn't as if the boy wasn't disposable – he just needed to be trained enough so he could put on a good showing. He, Albus Dumbledore, great leader of the light, needed to finish Voldemort for once and all.


	23. It Never Ends

_Author notes: Whoops – clean up in aisle 22! Don't worry, readers. I didn't change the rules too much - __I admit, perhaps I should have our Harry meet Elf-Who-Lived, keeping them separate, but Harry needs to learn some important lessons in this world. _

_ Yes, Harry being an elf is strange, and probably hasn't been done yet in fan fiction. But remember the innocents back in chapter 7? Quote "__Babies of all nationalities and species – wizard babies black, red, yellow and white. Centaur babies, elf babies, giants, and merfolk. There were even magical creature babies – unicorns, griffins, thestral, dragons and more. The children, aged from new born to young toddlers, filled the room, surrounding Harry's crib and Voldemort. The only thing the babies seemed to have in common, besides age, was green eyes. Startling emerald green eyes like his own." If you recall Harry and Voldy's talk before opening the veil: "Would I change once I entered a new world?" Harry barely looked at Voldemort now, his attention firmly fixed on the veil. "No – you would keep all your abilitiesssss and memoriesssss. There would most likely be two Harry Potterssss once you arrived." Most likely, but not always._

_Voldy hasn't dimension hopped that much – he can open portals and use them, but hasn't explored. He know one keeps their 'marbles', but sometimes the pouch will change that holds those marbles!_

**Chapter 23 It Never Ends**

"Elf," Lucius Malfoy sniffed with obvious revulsion at Harry. "Lady Malfoy and I will be taking our son to the train station. I expect the windows to be washed by the time we get back."

Lady Narcissis Malfoy lowered her haughty gaze at the scrawny creature her husband was addressing. "Dinner will be at seven – there will be two additional guests." With that the Malfoys left the manor.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The mood always lightened considerably when the masters were gone. He had been here a little over three months, and had filled the position of house elf disturbingly well. The work was actually easier than what he had to do for the Dursleys, and he was fed much better. The beatings were usually a little less severe – he was, after all, a valuable commodity. And it was true – the Malfoys hated him and all elves because they were 'lesser beings', but the insults didn't hurt as much as they had coming from his blood relatives.

It was easy to pretend the severe beating he had received upon arriving in this dimension had addled his brains, so Bibi and Raffy had to 'reteach' him elf magic and house rules. Sadly, this was a common problem, but as Raffy would frequently say, "elves look out for elves". Harry was sure he would be returning the favor in time.

"Bibi's turn for windows, Harry" the tiny girl elf smiled, clapping her hands. "You rest until dinner. Practice your popping."

The Elf-Who-Lived gave Bibi a grateful smile and ran to his cupboard. He had been waiting for this – quality time alone. He shut the small door and quickly warded it to chime if somebody came down the hall, even though the elves had an agreement – one was not to be disturbed when in their 'room' unless it was work for the masters. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew his trunk and enlarged it. Flinging open the lid with abandon, he practically raced down the stairs and flung himself into a recliner he had purchased several worlds back.

"Ugh" Harry grunted with annoyance. His furniture was just too big now. With a frown he shrunk the chair to size, summoned a coke from the kitchenette, and raised it in a silent toast to Uncle Archie's portrait over the fireplace.

"Ahem," Archie cleared his throat with a raised eyebrow. "I don't mind the elf folk, but sir, you are taking liberties, aren't you?" he smiled at Harry with a touch of gentle warning in his voice.

Harry gave a snort and pointed to the scar on his forehead. "It's me, Uncle Archie" he replied in a dry voice. With a snap of his fingers he popped a hand mirror in from the bathroom and took the time to really examine his face. It was unsettling, even after several months. His skin was a pea-soup green, forehead wrinkled except for the infamous lightning bolt scar which seemed larger than on his human face. His nose was more button shaped – like a baby's nose, and his few sparse hairs were long and moving with every breeze and air current. Harry dolefully ran his fingers down his long pointed ears with a sigh.

Archie broke out in laughter. "It _is_ you, nephew! Jolly good!"

Sipping the soda pensively, Harry mused over the past few months. Malfoy started Hogwarts today. To his father's face he was confident and aristocratic, positive he would make Slytherin house and excel in all classes. Alone, at night, there are no secrets from your elves. The boy was a nervous wreck of insecurity – not that his cold mother or heartless father would ever notice. The touch of pathos didn't make Draco any nicer to be around, either. He was cruel and delighted in torturing the elves.

Lucius made it clear to his son that Draco was to spy on the 'Longbottom brat' every opportunity, and even become his friend if possible. The Malfoys hoped beyond hope that the Dark Lord would return, and they wanted their boy to try and figure out how the Boy-Who-Lived could have possibly defeated the greatest wizard in the world. Rumor had it Neville was practically a squib, and Lucius wanted more information.

Harry gave another sigh. Lucius Malfoy would have kittens if he ever found out his lowly elf – the one who made his favorite pastries – was the reason the Dork Lord was an ex-Dork Lord. He winced as he pictured all the nasty ways the Death Eater would avenge Voldemort if he ever found out.

Yes, the past few months had been hard. Every time Draco ordered him to do something in that haughty, arrogant voice of his, it took every bit of occlumency training Harry had to keep his face passive and not hex the ponce into next week. Every time Draco found some fault with Harry, which was often, it took super-human effort not to defend himself and get an even worse beating. And the effort was magnified now – learning elf magic meant Harry did not need a wand for most things anymore.

Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about the Draco of this universe. Some things were constants from world to world – the sucking up of Percy Weasley, the practical jokes of the twins, and the basic conflict of the Boy-Who-Lived vs. Voldemort. But Draco tended to changed from dimension to dimension, much like Ginny did. Depending upon how harsh the Dark Lord was, and how cruel the Malfoys were seemed to make a lot of difference in the Dracos Harry had come to know. This one seemed cruel, but with a softer side that many didn't show. Perhaps this could be used to Harry's advantage. Oh Draco wasn't kind or nice in the least, but he seemed a touch more vulnerable than most Harry had met.

Finding out Neville was so weak wasn't exactly a shock – the poor guy had probably been forced to use his dad's wand in this world too. He had a solution – a Neville's wand from another world. Harry had to find a way to get to Hogwarts to help Neville, get him the good wand and get rid of Quirrell. Without getting fired – it sounded as if the insanity from losing one's wizard struck almost instantly.

"Please wake me in an hour, Uncle Archie?" Harry requested the portrait, which agreed with a nod. The elf pushed the recliner back and nestled in the familiar comfort. Closing his eyes, he relaxed and was soon snoozing. A nap was magic in itself in this new life.

The next few hours passed all too quickly. Harry took his nap, woke refreshed, and proceeded to divide many healing potions and salves into elf-sized portions to be shared with Raffy and Bibi. Elves had an unwritten law to never ask where or how things happened – they didn't want to have too much information that could be beaten out of a person. They simply accepted the potions, knowing Harry had been in his cupboard the whole time and had not stolen them from the family.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy returned all too soon, company in tow. The elves served a successful meal, and during cleanup Harry heard the tapping of an owl at the kitchen window. He opened it to let Draco's owl in. _'Finally' _Harry mused to himself, taking the letter from the bird to deliver to his owners. He knew what the letter would say.

He presented the letter to Lucius, offered on a silver tray and waited at attention while the master of the house read it. The pale man's eyes flitted back and forth over the parchment before the proudly proclaimed to his wife and company that his son had indeed been sorted into Slytherin. "You elf," he snapped at Harry impatiently. "Have you ever been to Hogwarts? Can you go there?"

"Yes Master" Harry replied humbly. Inside he was dancing with joy. Finally, a chance to go to Hogwarts.

"There is a wooden box in the pocket of the robe my son was wearing this morning. Fetch it and bring it to him. You are NOT to look inside." Lucius turned his attention back to his guests, ignoring the elf.

Harry smiled to himself as he scampered up the servant stairs to Draco's room. He knew what was in the box already – he himself had encouraged Draco to fill it and have it delivered. It contained a shrunken broom, quite a few novelties from Zonkos, and several other items on the Hogwarts forbidden list. Harry knew from experience school trunks were searched for contraband before entering the castle, and he was only trying to help his 'beloved' master. Eagerly he snatched the boy's discarded closes off the floor, removed the box in question, and stuffed the laundry into a hamper, wrinkling his green button nose. Intimately knowing the state of Draco Malfoy's dirty undies was not something he ever expected or desired for his life.

It was almost curfew when Harry popped to Hogwarts. _'Drakeypoo sure took his sweet time sending that owl' _he groused to himself. Appearing in Draco's room he bowed and presented the container of contraband to the smirking boy.

"Great job, Harry," the blond crowed, enlarging the box and flinging it open. Grinning widely, he sorted through the various pranks and novelties. "This is great! Did my parents say anything?"

The elf decided to butter up his master a bit. "Yes, Master Malfoy," he shoomzed, "they is very proud, they is, with you being Slytherin!" Harry was amused to see the relief and fierce pride on the boy's face. He really needed some encouragement. "Does Master want me to return soon with cookies?" he added, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"I'll send an owl for you tomorrow, elf" Draco ordered, turning his attention back to his goodies. That was a dismissal, without a direct order to return to the manor immediately. It was exactly what Harry was hoping for.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry tip-toed bed to bed in the first year's dorm of Gryffindor tower. There, in what should have been _his_ bed, the young Neville was fast asleep. The elf gazed at him with pity for a moment before quietly crawling on the bed, magically shutting the curtains and warding them for silence. He gave the boy a gentle shake. "Master Neville Longbottom! Wake up!" he spoke softly.

"Whu, what? Who are you?" Neville rubbed bleary eyes and gaped at the strange house elf. It wasn't one of his.

"I be Harry, sir," the elf said, hating the way he had to speak in this universe. "I need to give you warning!"

The pudgy boy looked at him in confusion. "Warning? From what or who? Whose elf are you?"

Harry felt the fear rising in his chest. Elf magic had strong bindings and limitations – directly disobeying one's owners had dire consequences. "I mustn't say, Neville Longbottom! Masters kill Harry if they knows!"

"OK! Calm down – I understand!" Neville broke in, having owned elves his whole life. "What is your message?"

The wizard/elf calmed down. He held his hand up in a solemn oath and said "I, elf Harry, swear this be all truth and no harm to Neville Longbottom." The boy nodded in acceptance, knowing the strange elf on his bed now could not hurt him or lie to him. "Neville Longbottom must be careful this year – many want to hurt Boy-Who-Lived."

The child's lower lip trembled, revealing the unfortunate overbite that marred the boy's looks. "Why would anyone want to hurt me?" he quavered in fear and denial.

"Because everyone thinks you are the Boy-Who-Lived!" Harry explained gently, but with passion. "You aren't – Boy-Who-Lived is safe, training to defeat You-Know-Who. But bad men who miss You-Know-Who hate you and blame you." The elf patted the boy on the back and conjured a glass of milk and a nice fat cookie for him, which the child took and gratefully munched on.

"Who is the real Boy-Who-Lived?" Neville asked with fascination. "You know everyone thinks it's me – Gran, the Headmaster – they all expect so much out of me." He looked up at Harry with shining eyes, wet with unshed tears of frustration. "I'm nothing! I hear what they say behind my back – Squib Longbottom! The hat wanted to put me in Hufflepuff – told me Dumbledore forced him to put me in Gryffindor 'for my image'."

Harry planted small green hands of frustration on his hips, then shook an indignant finger at the boy. "Now you listen here, Neville Longbottom! You are not Boy-Who-Lived, but you are important and powerful wizard! But many things are keeping you weak. Harry help!"

Neville watched in fascination as the elf dug through deep pockets in his tea towel robe. "Here, Master Longbottom," Harry said triumphantly, handing the boy a potion. "Drink this – this will unblock your magical core. It no hurt."

Throwing caution to the wind, Neville took the potion and downed it. With a grunt of surprise he placed a hand over his chest and marveled "it feels all warm!"

"Yes, yes," Harry nodded in agreement. "It working good. Now – use _this_ wand from now on." He handed him the spare Neville wand from his trunk. "This wand matches Master Longbottom – not Daddy's wand. Daddy's wand no good for young Master."

The boy took the wand and flicked it at his pillow and watched in amazement as it exploded in a cloud of feathers. _'Why do we always go for the pillows?' _Harry thought with amusement as he repaired it with a snap of his fingers.

"Maybe I am a real wizard!" Neville marveled, gazing at his new wand with adoration.

Harry looked at Neville with sadness. "Neville has unfair life. It change now." The elf nodded so emphatically his ears flapped against his head, making the boy giggle with delight. '_Ah, the things we do for the cosmos_', Harry sighed inwardly. "Now Harry give advice. Important advice!"

The young wizard gave his full attention to the elf. "Number one," Harry pointed a green finger in the air. "Do NOT go to third floor! Headmaster is correct – very dangerous – especially for Master Longbottom!"

Neville nodded "no third floor – got it."

"Number two," the elf stuck a second finger in the air, "Professor Quirrell is very bad. Keep away. Take defense, do good, but stay away from bad professor."

The child looked puzzled – he hadn't met the defense teacher yet, but wondered what was wrong with the man.

"Number three," and Harry held up his third finger and implored him, "Master Longbottom might not believe Harry, but Dumbledore is bad. Very, very bad. Not looking out for Master Longbottom."

Neville's mouth dropped open. Dumbledore evil? That was unthinkable!

"I know you don't believe Harry, but powerful wizard bound your magic! Not many wizards have that power! If You-Know-Who had done it, why not Dumbledore remove it?"

The elf watched the logic connect in Neville's mind. Dumbledore had visited Gran and him on many occasions – this was making terrible sense.

"Do not look Dumbledore in eyes – he reads minds!" Harry lectured him. "Order books on occlumency from store – do NOT take from library or headmaster will know. Occlumency will shield Master Longbottom's thoughts from bad people." He looked at Neville and patted his arm. "Harry must go to bad masters. If you find who owns me, maybe you can buy me?"

With that, Harry the elf snapped his fingers and popped back to Malfoy Manor. A new year had begun at Hogwarts, and he had certainly stirred the pudding.


	24. Skipping Stones

**Chapter 24 Skipping Stones**

"You got that, Bobbie?" Neville asked his family elf intently. "I need all the beginner books on occlumency you can buy from Florish & Blotts, but do NOT let anyone know who they are for! Just take the cost out of my school vault."

The elderly elf bowed to his young master. "You can trusts me, Master Longbottoms. I's return in a jiffy."

The elf popped away and Neville leaned back with relief. Several days had passed since the strange elf Harry had visited. At first the boy was all too willing to pass it off as a vivid dream, but more and more, the elf made sense. Between the potion and the new wand, which Neville was polishing with affection, there was no doubt his magic had been fettered. And no question that Dumbledore could have done something about it years ago. He frowned, puckering his young forehead. He needed friends he could trust, but who in this castle was trustworthy?

It was early Saturday morning. His dorm mates were already at breakfast, and Neville had used the quiet to call the Longbottom elf to fetch his books. Harry had been correct – the headmaster did seem to be always trying to catch his eye. The boy sighed – Ron seemed intent on being his friend, but Neville didn't trust him. He was a bit buffoonish, a bit too eager, and he saw Ron whispering with the headmaster in an empty classroom early one evening. That seemed pretty suspicious in his eyes.

A quiet 'pop' and Bobbie returned, proudly handing his master three books. "Nobody ask or look strangely at Bobbie" he proclaimed. Neville thanked him warmly, asked him to fetch him breakfast, and he lay back down on his stomach, opening the first book. It was time to shield his thoughts.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At the same time, elsewhere in the castle, Harry the elf proudly handed his master a large, warm box with enticing odor coming from within.

"Brilliant, Harry!" Malfoy crowed, grabbing the box and tearing the lid off. Without pausing he grabbed a still hot cinnamon roll and bit into it with an ecstatic look on his face. "Mmmmm – nobody makes rolls like you, Harry."

"Master is too kind," the elf bowed and smiled tiredly. He had given up a couple hours of precious sleep to make the goodies in the box.

Draco glanced down at the elf. "Why are your hands bandaged, Harry?" he asked, without much sincere concern.

Harry paled a bit. "Master's father punish Harry for being late with breakfast."

The boy sat up straighter and gave the elf a strange look. "This morning?" Harry nodded yes. "When you were busy making this stuff for me?" Again the elf nodded. "Come here," the blond ordered.

Harry approached reluctantly, and Draco roughly grabbed one of the gauze wrapped hands, causing the elf to wince and tremble with pain. The boy waved his wand and made the bandages disappear, revealing severe oozing and bleeding blisters from obvious burns. He whistled in shock. "What did my father do to you?"

"Pressed my hands on hot stove" Harry shrugged casually. Vernon had done worse, but the fresh air _was_ causing a lot more pain than necessary.

"I thought you guys were exaggerating all this time" Draco mused, making the bandages re-appear once more, much to Harry's relief.

"Can Harry fetch anything else for Master Malfoy?"

"Nah – just tell my folks I have you working for me – not to beat you if you aren't accessible" the boy garbled around a full mouth of mushy sweet bread.

The elf bowed again, shaking a bit. "Master is too kind," he repeated safely, thankful his real feelings were firmly occluded. Thank you, Snape-from-Harold's-world – those lessons had come in useful numerous times.

"They shouldn't treat you so hard," Draco mused as he reached for another roll. "You are the best baker we've had, and we go you so cheap. You'd be hard to replace for that price – being used goods and all."

Despite himself, Harry had to ask. "Pardon, Master?"

"You probably don't remember – we got you real cheap because your former owners didn't want you – didn't like your scar for some reason." The boy shrugged, bored with the subject. "Your memory was probably wiped."

'_That's interesting' _Harry mused to himself. _'Mrs. Longbottom doesn't know who bought me, and the Malfoys don't know where I came from.'_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The first few months flew by. Draco was disgusted to see the 'Boy-Who-Lived' was strong, probably holding back, humble, and pretty well liked, despite being ugly and bumbling in appearance. He ignored his father's wishes to befriend the orphan and instead took to teasing and pranking him mercilessly. Harry said nothing – he could see that the young Malfoy heir was truly a self-serving and cruel young boy, and didn't want to encourage any friendship between the two. True, Draco had some potential, but he wasn't going to mature into a nice person on a lowly elf's prompting, Harry was certain.

Neville was still pretty much a loner. Ron had tried to worm his way into the boy's confidence, but the young Longbottom heir could feel the insincerity and stayed clear. He liked Hermione, despite her showing off, but she was pretty shy about forming friendships and kept to herself. To Harry's surprise the boy had developed a trust and respect for Professor Snape, of all people. The elf guessed that the Longbottoms must not have picked on Snape like the Marauders had, and Snape was sweet on Lily Potter, not Alice Longbottom, thereby Neville hadn't 'earned' the potion master's wrath like Harry had.

Harry had been visited by Zippy again one quiet day when the Malfoys were out. Zippy gave him the good news that since he was in an elf's form, he didn't need the bond-terminator potion. That was only necessary when 'his' Voldemort was killed. Neville couldn't take it – there was no link between him and the Dark Lord. So that was one less thing to worry about.

The elf came every Saturday, first to deliver sweets to his blond master, and then to visit Neville and check on his occlumency, which he was excelling in. It helped immensely that he had decent books and a willing elf friend to help him with it. Once the boy's shields were solid, it was no problem to teach him to keep inconsequential thoughts out in the open and readable – junk about gardens and upcoming meals – so mind readers like Dumbledore would not be suspicious and look deeper.

Halloween came and the castle was growing excited. Giant pumpkins were hauled in from Hagrid's garden, sweets decorated with bats and black cats made it to the meals, and children's eyes sparkled as they do around any holiday. The Malfoy elves were grateful that their owners would be gone for a full week, taking only Raffy with them. That left Harry to do as he wished for the week, and protecting Neville from a troll was high on his list.

The day of the Halloween feast Harry hid in the familiar hallway behind a statue, waiting. Sure enough, out of a class room came Ron, Neville and Hermione. "She's such a pain" Ron sniped, "it's no wonder nobody likes her."

"Shhhh" Neville glared at Ron. "Don't you care about anybody's feelings? She's right here with us!" But the boy turned just in time to see Hermione fleeing down the hall, wiping tears from her eyes.

'_Some things never change,'_ Harry sadly mused. Well, now to bail her out and start on Neville's self-confidence. The elf hung around the castle until the evening meal, then stayed hidden in the entrance until he saw the hypocrite Quirrell run into the great hall, stuttering away about a troll being loose. Harry waited patiently, figuring that Neville would hang back looking for Hermione.

He lucked out – there at the very end was Neville, searching with a worried expression up and down the halls for the upset girl. Ron was chatting with Dean oblivious to the unfolding drama. Harry crept up and tugged Neville's robe, gesturing for him to follow him down an empty corridor as soon as he was sure Draco wasn't looking. It wouldn't do to be recognized by his owner.

"What is it, Harry?" the boy asked the elf.

"Bookish bossy girl is in trouble!" he whispered frantically to Neville. "She hide in girls bathroom, too close to smelly troll!"

The Boy-Who-Supposedly-Lived drew back with shock and horror. "What can _we_ do? I'm just a kid!"

Harry shook his head emphatically, causing his ears to flap like crazy. "Master Neville powerful wizard. We can handle – no time for teachers!" He grabbed the boys hand and pulled him swiftly to the bathroom in question. They shoved through the door (well, Harry shoved through, dragging the bewildered boy with him, who was blushing furiously) and then stopped dead in their tracks. The elf had forgotten just how big trolls were. The fact he was only three-foot high now didn't help.

Small squinting eyes, huge hulking body, loose lipped, slack and drooling mouth. And smell. Oh yeah – Harry forgot just how badly trolls smelled. The troll roared, spitting flem and raised his club to bash the intruders. Hermione was weeping with fear, huddled in the corner under the remains of a demolished sink. "Quick, Master Longbottom! Levitate club above troll's head!" Harry squeaked out.

Breaking out of his stunned immobility, Neville quickly obeyed, casting the spell and holding the club above the confused beast's head. "Now stop spell!" Harry yipped, while casting a wandless spell of his own. Aimed at the troll's open mouth, it was an elf magic typically used for cleaning baked on grease in ovens. What most people didn't realize is that troll spittle is very caustic/acidic. As the troll was knocked senseless from the falling club, its insides were swiftly burned to ash from Harry's cleaning spell. The troll fell, dead before his hit the bathroom floor with a castle-jarring thud. Hermione ran into Nevilles arms, and Harry popped back to Malfoy manor as the door was opening, the teachers rushing in to 'save' the missing students.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"I can't believe I killed a troll by myself!" Neville was sitting in his bed eating some sweet rolls Harry had brought him. The curtains were drawn and silenced for privacy – his dorm mates were used to the Boy-Who-Lived sleeping in on Saturdays.

It was the Saturday after Halloween. The castle was still buzzing about Neville Longbottom bravely killing the troll by himself and saving Hermione. Harry smiled at the boy – he'd never tell him how the troll really died. Young Neville was standing straighter, speaking more confidently since the encounter, and goodness knows the boy needed all the positive reinforcement he could get.

Ever since the incident Hermione and he had become fast friends. Draco was furious over the attention Neville was getting, as was Ron. Ron was also miffed because the famous boy continued to spurn his offered friendship. Oh Ron really didn't care for Neville – he thought he was too ugly, too rich and too popular for his own good. But Dumbledore wanted him to keep an eye on him, and the red-head couldn't help but feel any attention Neville got might rub off on him too.

Neville drank some pumpkin juice and looked thoughtfully at Harry. "You have some new scars on your hands. Your owners must be awful."

The elf winced. Yes, yes they were. Though they were still better than the Dursleys, and any pain was worth it to learn elf magic. "They's my masters. I say nothing bad."

"Someday I'll find out who they are and buy you, Harry," the boy nodded. "You have helped me so much."

Harry grinned. He wasn't sure what bonding to Neville would do once he left this world. Elves were multi-dimensional – he hoped the bond wasn't. It could get interesting. "Tell me about your friends, Master Longbottom" he chirped, changing the subject.

Neville smiled. "Hermione and I are great friends now. But I still don't trust Ron. Am I right?" He searched the elf's face intently.

Harry shook his head sadly. "You'se right, Master Longbottom. I spied on headmaster I did. He wants you under his control, and he pays Ron to spys on youse." Neville frowned darkly. "Just pretend you don't know this – keep shield up. Has Professor smelly turban tried to hurt you?"

"He looks at me weird a lot," Neville pondered. "He doesn't teach very much – according to Fred and George he's a terrible teacher for DADA. I know everything he's trying to teach the class already, but I did have training before Hogwarts." The boy paused to finish his breakfast and let Harry banish the dishes. "I like Fred and George. The three of us hang out with Professor Snape sometimes, and work on potions. They like to invent cool stuff, and Professor Snape makes sure they don't blow themselves up."

The elf smiled warmly. "Master Potions Master good man. Look mean, is nice inside. He reads minds too, trusts headmaster, so keep shield strong, ok?"

"Yah," Neville snickered. "We were working on something the twins call 'canary creams' last week and I felt him trying to access my thoughts. I let him see all my detailed plans for herbs I want to plant to use in potions. Then he couldn't yell at me for not paying attention, and he got too bored to look any deeper."

"Good job, Master Longbottom," Harry giggled. "He good man with yukky friend."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The rest of the school year was pretty anti-climatic. Since Neville wasn't introduced to the magical world by Hagrid, he had no idea the half-giant had cleaned out a secret vault at Gringotts. Since the boy followed Harry's warning, he never snuck to the third floor and discovered Fluffy and the trap door he was guarding. And since Neville wasn't really the Boy-Who-Lived, his scar didn't explode with pain near Quirrell, and he didn't get into trouble to get sent into the Forbidden Forest on detention. So it was up to Harry to take care of this year's little Voldy problem.

It was the first week of June – the very night he had defeated Quirrell/Voldemort in his own world. Fluffy was tied asleep, snoring as only a three-headed dog can, to the strains of a musical harp and lying next to the open trap door. Only this time the harp had been conjured by Harry himself. He opened the link to Voldemort through his shields and sent him the message _'hey, Tommy boy! Want to play? Here I am, the Boy-Who-Kicked-Your-Butt-As-A-Baby!"_

Hiding behind the sleeping dog, Harry snickered to himself as he closed his shields again. Quirrell/Voldemort were on their way.

Soon the door opened and shut again. Harry could hear locking and privacy charms being put into place, and the voice of Quirrell called out, minus the fake stutter. "Come out, Mr. Longbottom. We got your message. Help me get the stone and nobody will get hurt."

'_Where issss he, fool?' _the snake-like voice of Voldemort hissed, muffled by the turban. _'I sssssense his presence, but it doesn't feel right."_

'_Why does he look and sound like a snake now?' _the elf pondered, waiting for Quirrell to get closer to the trap door. _'living off of too many snakes in the wilderness?'_

Professor Quirrell finally placed his wand on his hand. "Point me Neville Longbottom" he snarled at it, and watched as the wand spun and stopped, aimed down the trap door. Oh it wasn't actually pointing to Neville – Harry had 'borrowed' a used pair of the boy's 'tighty-whiteys' and cast a false aura spell on it – something elves used to get angry masters off their track when their lives were in danger.

"Could he have gotten through the devils' snare, master?" Quirrell was leaning over, peering into the darkness below. Harry stepped out from behind the sleeping dog and gave him a good hard shove. Down the professor fell, and landed in the painful thorns, screaming with pain.

'_Shut up and casssst a sssssunlight ssssspell, fool!' _Voldemort hissed in anger. But what the Dark Lord didn't realize, yet, was that Harry had poured potions on the thorns to make them light resistant, fire proof, and the thorns poisonous. And the poison made the devil's snare very, very bad tempered. Quirrell and Voldemort both screamed, struggled, and cast spells to no effect. Soon the poison did his work and the unfortunate professor passed out, dying.

Harry frowned with frustration. He tried to bind Voldemort's soul to Quirrell's body, but it wasn't working – either because his elf magic wasn't compatible with that spell, or because Riddle's form wasn't fully meshed with the professors. So helplessly, with plenty of anger, the elf watched the ghostly spirit of Voldemort come flying out of the trap door, and rush through the castle walls, leaving Hogwarts to search for a new host.

'_He didn't even pause to look at me' _Harry mused. Either Voldemort was as pig-headed as Dumbledore – refusing to look for the Boy-Who-Lived outside of the realm of human, or he was too weak and injured to feel the connection. Either way, Harry's identity was still safe, and so was Neville. It was time for summer – time to plan how to defeat the Dark Lord in his next incarnation.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

'_Wingardium Leviosa' _Dumbledore spoke solemnly, raising Quirrell's body out of the angry Devil's snare. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and the nurse Poppy Pomfrey were standing by to assist. Slowly the dead body of the DADA instructor came out of the trap door, floated over to the headmaster and landed in a heap gently at his feet. His turban came off when he touched ground, revealing the man's duo identity.

"What is that, Albus!" Minerva gasped, pointing at the hideous face coming out of the back of Quirrells lifeless head. Poppy was scanning frantically with her wand, as Flitwick drew closer to examine, hands not touching the body.

"A parasitic life – dead also," Poppy answered grimly. "Our defense professor was playing host for another – he was slowly dying from it too."

"Is that who I think it is, Albus?" Flitwick squeaked nervously. The headmaster made some complicated wand movements at the still and snake-like face.

"Yes, Filius, I'm afraid it is." Dumbledore sighed heavily, sitting in a swiftly conjured chair as he stared at the corpse, wishing he could pull the answers to his questions out of the dead pairs of lips. "I'm afraid poor Quirinus was the ill-fated host to Tom Riddle. They are both gone."

"For good, Albus?" McGonagall asked sharply. "How did he get in the castle without us knowing?"

Ignoring the second question, Dumbledore looked at her sadly. "No, the soul is still earthbound. He will return. But what happened here – do any of you know?"

"Could Mr. Longbottom have defeated him again?" Minerva gasped, thinking about her star student.

But Albus looked toward the ceiling a moment, eyes screwed shut in concentration. After a brief pause he faced his three co-workers again. "Hogwarts tells me that Mr. Longbottom was in his dorm all night, and that no teachers or students were in this room with the exception of Mr. Quirrell here."

"So You-Know-Who was forcing him to get the stone," mused Flitwick, "and he was taken out by something as simple as Devil's Snare? That seems a bit preposterous."

"Yes, it would be," Poppy answered grimly, still scanning the body with multiple charms. "Except he died from poison – the plant was coated with it, and potions to make it resist the usual ways to combat the plant."

"Can you tell who did it?" Minerva asked, stunned. "Did somebody do it to stop Quirrell in particular, or to protect the stone?"

Poppy shook her head, and Dumbledore cast spell after spell, trying to find traces of the human being who had been there recently. Naturally, he found none, for Harry wasn't human on this world, was he?


	25. Taking Care of Small Problems

**Taking Care of Small Problems - Chapter 25**

"Here, Harry – carry this too" Draco sniffed, piling yet another full-sized parcel on the elf's ever-growing stack.

"Yes, master," Harry murmured, balancing the load. The elf was in a great mood, and nothing could dampen it now. The Malfoys had brought him to Diagon alley to do Draco's school shopping. As in Harry's world, Lucius and Mr. Weasley got into a great fist-fight in the middle of Flourish & Blotts. It was easy during the chaos to sneak around to Ginny's cauldron of books and remove the dangerous diary, unnoticed by anyone. It now rested against Harry's shrunken trunk, safe in his pocket. Nobody would be possessed by Tom Riddle this time.

Now – how to destroy the diary? In his world it was basilisk venom that did the trick. Perhaps a visit to the chamber of secrets would be in order – maybe the basilisk can be convinced to help without having to hurt the creature.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Severus Snape sat at his large desk in the potions classroom, glancing over at the trio of Gryffindors working studiously over a bubbling caldron. What was the world coming to? He found himself actually enjoying the company of the infamous Weasley twins and 'squib' Longbottom. Their inventions were always trademarked by surprising flashes of genius, and didn't really need a lot of guidance. So few wizards these days had creativity, the man sighed inwardly.

"Mr. Longbottom – do you really want to add the bat spleens right this moment?" he snarled, pretending to be irate.

A look of understanding shown in the boy's eyes. "Thank you, professor – I forgot about stabilizing with lily bulbs first!" The threesome scrambled to add the necessary ingredient.

"And do remember," The potion master sneered, "if I find _myself_ turning into a house elf from this potion, you will lose all extra-curricular potion lab privileges. The only reason I allow you dunderheads in here is so you don't blow up the castle." Snape turned his attention back to his paperwork, chuckling inside, though he looked as stern as ever to the outside world.

Fred winked at the other two, his back turned to the professor. They weren't fooled for a minute.

Last year had been a wild year. Snape was fully prepared to hate the Boy-Who-Lived. Rumors abound that he was a near squib in ability, and Albus seemed bound and determined to push the two of them together. And Snape simply 'knew' Longbottom would be spoiled and useless. But the child he met was different than his low expectations – humble, polite, strong in magic, hungry to learn. Snape had every intention of helping the boy so he could do what he was destined to do – rid the world once and for all of Voldemort. Besides, he did have a conscious, buried deep down, and he felt he owed the boy.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry glanced around the empty girl's washroom, studying the marauder's map. It was 3 a.m., and everyone was in bed – even Filch and Mrs. Norris. Myrtle was huffing in the corner, bored, but not so bored she wanted to whine to a mere house-elf. It had been easy to lift the map out of Filch's office while the caretaker slept and the room silenced – he merely had to pop into the office to get around the wards on the door.

Being a house-elf had so many advantages. Elf magic was wandless, silent, and very powerful. Zippy assured him on one of his visits he would retain the abilities when he became human again. People tended to ignore him, which worked hugely in his favor. Popping was amazingly better than apparition. And Myrtle didn't want to bug him. Being an elf was good.

Oh there was a downside – no doubt. He was beat regularly. He wasn't allowed to voice an opinion. He was a slave. But he knew it wasn't forever – the sooner he killed this world's Voldemort, the sooner he'd have his freedom back. And the sooner he could look into a more realistic version of S.P.E.W.

Hissing out the command in parseltongue, Harry opened the sink in the bathroom, and proceeded to clean the pipes with elf magic. Sliding down the chute, again he proceeded to clean with elf-inspired passion. The place really was filthy. As a human dirt and clutter never bothered him much – it was a rebellion against his Aunt's compulsive cleaning. But as an elf, it seemed to be a racial trait – he could not abide filth. It took less than an hour, and the place was clean enough to his satisfaction. He opened the chamber and called out to the basilisk _'beautiful basilisk, companion of Salazar Slytherin, please come and speak with me.'_

Harry kept his eyes lowered, not wishing to be petrified. He could hear the giant snake approach, and see its shadow flickering from the torches.

"_What does an elf want with me? I could eat you with one snap of my jaws…" _the beast hissed angrily.

"_In another world I am a descendant of the great Slytherin" _Harry hissed back. "_If I wasn't, could we speak? Have any other elves ever been able to talk with you?" _OK, maybe he wasn't technically a blood relative of the founder, but the rebounded curse gave him enough of Tom's magic that it gave the same readings as being related.

That took the basilisk by surprise. It flicked its tongue several times, tasting the air for potions or other trickery. The elf smelled like an elf and nothing else. And yes, the snake could pick up the faint traces of Salazar's ancestry. The great wizard had spoken of dimensional travel with the snake on several occasions – he felt no reason to distrust the tiny elf below him. _"What do you want of me, small one?" _he hissed with far less malice.

Harry smiled with relief. _"Lovely one, I have a dark object that needs to be destroyed. I know from my travels in other worlds that your bite will do it." _Carefully he pulled the diary out of a pocket and held it out to the basilisk, who tasted it with its flickering forked tongue.

"_This belongs to Tom Riddle you know," _the snake spoke after a while.

"_Do you serve him?" _Harry asked with extreme courtesy. _"I know he is a blood relation to Salazar also, but from what I understand your true master was neither a blood purist nor a megalomaniac."_

The basilisk studied the elf and gave the parcel equivalent of a sigh. _"You are correct, small one. Tom Riddle tricked me years ago into obeying him. But listening through the pipes to what the children were saying I could hear what he was ordering me to do and knew it was wrong – the mixed bloods are not enemies, and Salazar would be angry if he knew what I had been made to do. Riddle disappeared – graduated I assume – and I haven't heard from him since."_

"_This book is a horcrux of Tom Riddle," _Harry held it out to the snake. _"I am trying to prevent his return. Another form of him is still wandering the earth, which I will remove soon."_

Without another word the basilisk reached down and bit the book firmly, injecting poison into the tainted pages. The diary hissed, bled ink and screamed from the floor where the snake dropped it. _"If you need anything else for getting rid of him, let me know small one." _Silently the snake glided back to its den. Harry watched him go – grateful for the help with the diary, and grateful that he was leaving.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Anything new in school, Master Longbottom?" Harry asked with interest as they shared a 'picnic' breakfast on Neville's bed. The elf made sure he heard all the gossip he could from both Draco and Nev every Saturday when he delivered sweet rolls to both his charges.

Neville gave a dry laugh. "Besides Ron's stupid rat disappearing? Naw – school is fun this year."

"How long ago that happen, Master Longbottom?" Harry asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. "Did he try 'accio rat'?"

"Two days ago – yes - Padma's cat probably ate him. They aren't speaking now because of it." Neville looked apathetic – he didn't like Ron and the mangy looking rodent wasn't very endearing.

Harry found the news more interesting than the students of Gryffindor tower did, however. Scabbers didn't disappear in most worlds until Harry's forth year, when he ran away to help resurrect Voldemort. Perhaps he had helped Neville too much, and fate was speeding things up a bit. "Master Longbottom be careful – ok? Pets disappearing is bad sign," he squeaked as pitifully as he could.

Neville gave him a pat on the head. "Don't worry Harry – I'm always careful."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was getting close to June, and school had been disturbingly quiet. The lack of Tom's return through the diary had Lucius Malfoy in such a mood he was constantly torturing elves. Harry bore it, and the Malfoy elves healed each other constantly with the stores from Harry's trunk.

Before leaving Neville that one Saturday when he learned that Pettigrew went missing, Harry had checked the marauders map. The traitor rat was no where in the castle. Scabbers being in this universe did pose some questions though. Questions that Harry had to research the Daily Prophet archives in the library to answer. Spying on the headmaster gave a few more. If the Potters had never been betrayed, and there was no human Harry, where did Pettigrew come in?

Harry sighed, rolling out sweet roll dough one early Saturday in the manor kitchen. Although the Potters never come into play in this universe, the traitor certainly did. The cover of this marauders map gave the answer when it listed Padfoot, Mooney and Prongs – Peter was never friends with Sirius, Remus and James. He was best friends with Frank Longbottom. Halloween night, 1981, Peter betrayed the Longbottoms to Voldemort. And Snape _had_ given the partially heard prophecy to Voldemort, but the death of Alice Longbottom didn't affect him the same way the death of Lily would have. He wasn't a bitter, hollow shell of man – just a snarkey, mean tempered ex-death eater.

"_Harry! Harry – I need you!" _ The elf jumped, startled, as the telepathic cry for help came to his mind. It was Neville, and he sounded scared and panicky. Harry looked over at Raffy apologetically. "Harry sorry, but something more important has come up!" he said as he popped away to follow the link to his other 'master'.

He arrived at the familiar graveyard, and winced as his scar exploded with pain. Pettigrew and Lucius were roughly tying the terrified Neville to a tall tombstone, while the boy stared with open-mouthed horror at the cauldron that certainly held the disgusting pre-rezed Voldemort.

Lucius? Lucius Malfoy was here _before_ Voldemort got his body back? Harry gave a silent groan as he glanced around. At least the other Death Eaters had not been summoned yet. He thought hard for a moment – did Voldemort need Harry's blood to be reborn? No, he concluded. The ritual called for the 'blood of an enemy', and he considered Neville just that.

Snapping both hands with firmness, Harry flung the unsuspecting Malfoy and Pettigrew a good 30 feet from the petrified boy. Another snap of his elvin fingers and Neville was free and ran to Harry in fear. "Hide, Master Longbottom" Harry whispered, "I take care of bad wizards."

Neville did hide behind another tombstone, but he watched the scene, wand out and ready. He really did belong in Gryffindor, Harry mused. Draco would have been halfway to Scotland by now. Lucius came to his feet first and glared at the elf in fury. "My elf? My own elf dares to betray me?" he screamed. "Here, traitor – catch!" and with triumph he pulled off a glove and flung it Harry, who caught it without thinking.

Clothes. He had been given clothes. With a gasp Harry grabbed his head and fell to the ground convulsing. Pain, separation, severing… there was no way to describe what he was going through. Images of betrayal, guild, and judgment all filled his overwhelmed brain, and he howled, the only way he could vocalize the primal agony he was going through.

Weakly Harry looked up, and was glad to see Neville was still being ignored by the two wizards. They were watching him with smug satisfaction as he tried to raise shaking hands and defend himself magically. It was no use – his spells were jumbled in his head, as were any ability to plan and formulate. Clothes… he hadn't been good enough. He deserved it – he was a bad elf.

"Longbottom – come back and we will make it less painful on you" called Lucius with his typical arrogance. "The grounds are warded against apparition and portkey, and would tell me if you had escaped. Come like a good boy and show us what kind of Gryffindor you are."

"Nooooooo," Harry sobbed, but he couldn't tell if he was begging Neville to run or for the waking nightmares in his head to leave. Pain. Agony. Loss. Everything was a confusing blur. Malfoy sent a casual _crucio_ at him and he barely noticed it – the devastation of the severed bond was far, far worse because it was more than physical pain. It was the bottomless despair, the loneliness – the profound 'I don't want you any more' that cut him to the heart.

Thankfully Neville knew what was going on. It was drilled into every elf owner's head, the consequences of giving an elf clothes. Only a dark, evil man like Malfoy would even consider it. Lucius had run one direction, and Pettigrew the opposite, searching for him. In the few moments of solitude the Boy-Who-Lived ran out and grabbed Harry, and dragged him into the bushes, frantically whispering in to the elf's ears.

Clarity. Awareness. The pain faded to a manageable level, though his scar still was stabbing with the Dark Lord's close proximity. Harry blinked his eyes a few times and looked into the frightened and worried face of Neville Longbottom. "What happened, Master Longbottom?" he whispered.

"Malfoy gave you clothes – you were suffering the madness!" Neville whispered back. "I bonded you to me. Malfoy and Pettigrew are still here, looking for me." Harry could hear them shouting and taunting in the distance and the hissing anger of the Dark Lord coming from the cauldron who was demanding to know what was going on. Harry stood up and peered through the bushes.

"Master stay here," Harry pushed Neville back. "I take care of nasty former Master and rat boy." He crept out and followed Peter's voice. Soon he came upon the animagus, who was sweating and puffing, looking frantically for the missing boy. The elf gave an evil grin, stunned the jerk and swiftly conjured ropes to tie the fat wizard up with. One more stupefy, grab and snap a wand, and Harry was ready for the next one.

Creeping quietly, Harry tracked down his ex-master. White blond hair shone in the moon light as light blue eyes peered angrily in back of each grave, one at a time. Again Harry stunned and bound the man, snapped his wand, and then searched for Nagini, who would be somewhere close. Sure enough, the elf found the snake slowly creeping toward an unsuspecting Neville. A severing charm and the snake was no more.

"Master – they is both bound and sleeping" Harry called to a very relieved Neville. "Now, we must kill this thing" he gestured at the cauldron. They both carefully peered into the pot to see the disgusting form of the Dark Lord. He was like an evil parody of a baby – small, helpless, with newborn limbs, though the features of his face were like that of Tom Riddle and a snake blended. He was snarling and screaming, suffering from the loss of his familiar, and knowing he was helpless.

"I, I, I can't kill him!" Neville looked at Voldemort with fear and disgust, his wand hand trembling. He wanted to defeat the Dark Lord, but the thought of taking a life horrified him.

Harry looked at him sadly. "Master Longbottom no need to. You can't kill him forever – you aren't Boy-Who-Lived."

"What do you mean, elf?" Voldemort snarled from his cauldron, clenching his chubby fist in impotent fury.

The elf smirked, pulled out his wand, and started the complicated spellwork to bind Voldemort's soul to his body. "No!" Riddle gasped with comprehension. "NO! I'll give you anything! ANYTHING!"

"Anything?" Harry gave an oily smile to the screeching man/child.

"ANYTHING! I swear!" Voldemort cried in panic.

"Good. Harry want your head!" And as the Dark Lord yelled one last cry of helpless fury, the elf slashed Voldemort with a simple cutting hex, and the man died, laying limp in the disgusting cauldron.

Neville was throwing up loudly as Harry patted his back and cleaned the mess. Looking at the elf with tearful eyes, he sobbed "I don't understand!"

Giving the boy a hug, Harry smiled sadly. "Master Longbottom was my _first_ master, when you were a baby. Your scar just from boo-boo. My scar from curse." Harry pointed to his forehead, and Neville gaped with realization.

"_You_ are the Boy-Who-Lived?" Neville gasped. Harry nodded. "Then how did you end up with the Malfoys?"

"I think I know" Harry looked at the ground embarrassed. "Mistress Longbottom no want ugly elf with scar. Remind her of your parents and how they died. She sell me in Diagon Alley to elf dealer. Malfoys buy cheap because I'm used and ugly."

Neville looked around the graveyard with concern. "What now?" he asked the elf helplessly.

"Can Master do favor for Harry?" the elf asked hesitantly.

"Anything, Harry!" the boy answered sincerely.

"Can you bond with two more elves? Malfoys treat us badly." He looked into the boy's eyes with hope.

"Certainly!" Neville answered. "I know how he treated you – he has more?"

"Two more – Raffy and Bibi." Harry led Neville over to the now awake but still bound Lucius. Again Harry pointed his wand at the man, this time casting _Imperio_ at him. "You call Raffy and Bibi here. You give them clothes. You no run away," Harry commanded.

The fog filled Lucius' brain, and he was forced to obey. The two frightened elves were summoned, given the other glove and an outer cloak, and before they could fully feel the madness of separation, Neville swiftly said the oath that bound them to him. Harry, grinning widely, tied Malfoy back up and stupefied him yet again.

The rest of the night passed swiftly. Bibi popped to the Aurors to get help. Raffy went to Longbottom manor to warn Gran she had three new elves. Neville told a modified version of events to the aurors from Harry's encouragement. The story would come out the next morning in the Daily Prophet that Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived, had defeated Voldemort once again and captured two notorious Death Eaters. Lucius would not be able to buy his way out of this one. Harry returned to Hogwarts with Neville, to protect him from Dumbledore and help him with dealing with the events, and the ecstatic Raffy and Bibi remained at Longbottom manor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Albus Dumbledore glared with fury at the Daily Prophet sitting on his desk, while he noisily slurped some tea. How dare that Longbottom brat! This wasn't the way it was suppose to be!

Impatiently the wizard brushed the crumbs off his beard and frowned out the window. How did the boy get so much power? Enough to defeat Tom? When he left him two summers ago, the blocks on his core were firmly in place, his father's wand was fighting him, and the child was depressed and weak-willed. For two years now he defied all logic by being strong, confidant and popular.

Obviously Tom's servants, Malfoy and Pettigrew, had created that monstrosity of a body for the Dark Lord. By the objects lying in and around the cauldron, it was easy to see he was planning on coming back with Longbottom's blood sacrifice. But as powerful as the child had become, he was no where near ready to defeat two full-grown Death Eaters and Voldemort. And Albus still could not wrap his brain around Neville being the Boy-Who-Lived.

The ancient wizard gave another dark look at the newspaper. It was supposed to be easy. Keep the boy downtrodden, pump him full of stories, and allow Tom to get a physical body back. Then throw the kid at him, let him die, and with tears in your eyes, defeat Tom and become the hero of the world. Wait a year or two, kill off that odious matriarch of the Longbottoms, and make sure his 'authentic' will is found leaving the Longbottom fortune to Dumbledore for all his 'help'.

And now this. Albus crumpled the newspaper and pitched it across the room in a sudden gesture of fury. He thought he had the boy when he hired Quirrell/Voldemort last year. But someone got to his DADA professor first, and Longbottom was safe. Well, perhaps he could invite the boy in for tea, curse him, and when he died, explain to Poppy how it was obviously a slow acting curse he received during the battle with Malfoy. Yes, that would do nicely. He wouldn't have the fame and reputation from defeating Voldemort, but at least the way to the Longbottom fortune would be clear.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Neville reluctantly entered Dumbledore's office, glancing around the room at all the spinning and whirling objects. Why were the portraits all asleep this time of day?

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom, my boy!" Dumbledore grandly gestured him to the seat opposite his own, eyes twinkling with his most grandfatherly of expressions. "Have a seat! Lemon drop?" Neville shook his head no. Harry had warned him never to eat or drink anything from the man. "Congratulations on fulfilling your destiny! I just wanted to get the details from you – one never knows what one can learn."

The boy frowned slightly, feeling very uncomfortable. "There isn't much to say, Headmaster," he answered politely. "It really was mostly luck."

"Nonsense, my boy!" Albus smiled grandly. "Now this won't hurt a bit…" he muttered as he lifted his wand and pointed at Neville, who watched, paralyzed with surprise.

"Not today, bad headmaster!" Harry, who had popped into the office behind Dumbledore, had been watching from a dark corner the whole time. With a snap of his fingers the mugwhump was bound and stupefied.

"Harry! Again I owe you!" Neville quavered with relief. The headmaster was even more frightening than Voldemort, in his opinion. "What do we do? Nobody will believe he was trying to hurt me."

The elf patted his master on the back. "Neville go back to tower – tell everyone you had nice chat with headmaster, ok? And as much as Harry hated to do it to a friend, he obliviated his master, removing the memory of Dumbledore trying to hex him and Harry saving him. All Neville would ever recall was a nice cup of tea and fooling the headmaster with his story of the defeat of Voldemort.

Once Neville left, and Harry was alone with the sleeping Dumbledore, the elf rubbed his hands together with glee. "Now, Albus. I know just what to do with you!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Summer arrived, and Neville went home, safe and sound and surrounded by grateful elves. As soon as the excitement died down Harry found a quiet afternoon where he could tell Neville about his true identity, how he had to move on and defeat more Voldemorts, and how he wasn't usually an elf.

"I'll miss you, Harry," he sniffed, trying to hide the tears. "You saved my life I don't know how many times, and got rid of the two most dangerous wizards!" He paused and looked at the elf strangely. "Will you tell me what ever happened to Dumbledore? I know it had to be you. It was too coincidental that he disappeared right after my meeting with him."

Harry smiled kindly at the boy, as he checked for his trunk, wand, and bond terminators. "I won't say, kind master. Just be at ease – bad headmaster _never_ bother you again!"

"D-d-d-did you kill him?" he whispered in fear. "And are Malfoy and Pettigrew going to come after me? I heard they escaped from Azkaban!"

"Master Neville!" Harry looked affronted. "I no murder the creep. He's alive. Might not be very happy though. And you are safe from bad wizards – Harry caught them – they no escape again" he finished with a giggle. No, Albus Dumbledore, Lucius and Peter were not happy, he was sure.

Neville smiled with relief. "Well, I hereby grant the elf Harry his freedom without clothes. May you live a long and healthy life! And do not worry – I am starting an organization to protect the interests and safety of house elves!" The magic swirled and Harry was a free elf without the insanity.

He wrapped his arms around the boys knees, giving him a grateful hug. "Just don't name it S.P.E.W., kind master," he grinned. He waved and activated his amulet. Hopefully he would be human again in a few moments. Harry the elf faded away to his next world.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"ELF!!!" the angry voice shouted into the cupboard, and the elf cringed. The door flung open, and human hands dragged the small green figure out by the arm and roughly threw him against the wall. "If you don't shape up," a feminine voice hissed, "I'll let Draco punish you next. He's not as kind as I am."

"Yes Mistress!" The elf jumped to his feet, wincing a bit at the fresh wounds on his back from last night's beating. "Alby start breakfast. Sorry Mistress!"

Alby the elf supposed he had always worked for the Malfoys. He couldn't remember. That severe beating a few days ago must have jarred his brains. The other elves were trying to re-teach him elf magic, but he was slow to learn. And Petey and Lucy were pretty bad at magic themselves. They were new to the household, having been purchased by Narcissis just yesterday. The three of them worked hard and suffered much at the hands of Mistress and young Master Malfoy. If only they could remember…

Eventually their lost memory would return. They would recall their former lives as humans, and how the Elf-Who-Lived cursed them to live as house elves the rest of their lives. But who could they tell? Who would believe them? And when they tried, they found themselves unable to speak the words, babbling insults instead. It was a very effective curse Harry hexed them with. So they lived and slaved, beaten and tortured. There was nothing to look forward to, and no way to escape or return. And elves live for a long, long time.


	26. A Rose By Any Other Name

_Author Notes: I've had several people suggest this universe, and honestly, it was one of the first ones I wrote. It's probably been done, though I haven't read any fanfics like it myself. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it._

**A Rose By Any Other Name – Chapter 26**

When the spinning stopped and Harry opened his eyes, his first instinct was to inspect his hands. Whew – they were not green and elvin. Harry the elf was Harry Potter once again. Looking around, he was shocked to find himself standing in the living room of Number Four Privet Drive. Shocked and more than a little nauseated. Zippy wasn't with him, and neither was Hedwig. Where had she gone to?

In his travels to date he had not experienced the 'pleasure' of seeing the Dursleys in alternate dimensions. It was something he hadn't missed in the least. Standing in the hated parlor, seeing the familiar gleam of the street lights casting a silver glow on the spotless, loveless home, Harry found himself breathing deeply trying to cope with the unwelcome memories

'_So it's night. What year, what season I wonder?' _he pondered. Swiftly casting silencing spells around the room, the young man walked over to the fireplace and scrutinized the many photos lining the walls and mantle. _'Hmmm – nothing of Dudders in his Smelting's uniform. None of his graduation from primary school… I think that's the whale's 4__th__ year portrait. That means I should be in the cupboard and nine years old.' _

With a gulp of heartfelt trepidation Harry turned from the insipid collection of photos and faced his old 'bedroom' under the stairs. The padlock was firmly in place – probably meant 'he' was 'home'. Walking quietly over to the dreaded door of memories, he whispered a low _'Alohomora' _and knelt down to coax out what should be a nine-year old version of himself. He opened the door and peered in, the only light to aid him being a very small _Lumos _from his wand. 'Harry Potter?" he asked gently, in a non-threatening voice.

The small frail figure curled up on the small mattress woke up with a start. Vivid green eyes met his own, and with shock Harry realized age wasn't the only difference in this world.

"I'm Harriet Potter," the girl with a lightning bolt scar whispered back. "Who are you?"

Harry leaned back with a start, but swiftly got his repose back. "I'm a friend" he smiled softly. "How'd you like to leave the Dursleys forever?"

"What's your name?" Harriet asked, with painful hope and longing in her eyes, balanced with a healthy dose of disbelief. Obviously she was as used to her dreams and wishes being unanswered as he had been at that age.

"My name is Harry Potter" he said gently. "I'm a relative. I just found out you were here, and I came immediately to get you." He brushed his fringe away from his scar and pointed his lit wand at his forehead. She gaped at the scar and at him and immediately crawled toward him.

"Where have you been? How does your funny flashlight work? The Dursleys will never let me leave" she added as a sorrowful afterthought.

They stood up in the parlor and looked each other over. Harriet was small, bruised, underfed, and poorly dressed. She had the same green eyes and scar as Harry, with the same ugly and cheap eye glasses he used to wear. Her face was thin but finely boned, and her thick black hair was long and tied back in a braid. She kept glancing up the stairs fearfully.

"Don't worry about the Dursleys" Harry smiled, speaking normally. "They can't hear us."

"How?" the girl whispered in disbelief.

"Magic" he answered simply. With a laugh he interrupted the automatic response he knew she would make. "And yes, the Dursleys are very wrong. Magic exists and you are chock full of it."

Feminine green eyes filled with deep longing, tempered with skepticism. "Prove it" she begged.

"HEY VERNON, YOU BIG FAT WALRUS!!! IS IT TRUE YOU AND MARGE ESCAPED FROM SEA WORLD?" Harry screamed on the top of his lungs. Harriet yipped and dove for her cupboard, quivering with the anticipation of a severe beating. Harry bent over, laughing, and dragged her out by the ankles. "Look – no Vernon. I cast a silencing charm on the upstairs." He turned and faced one of Petunia's unbearable nic-nacs on the coffee table, and with a casual smack of his hand, shattered it into shards.

"Oooooooh Harry" the girl moaned weakly. "Aunt Petunia loved that stupid thing."

But Harry simply smiled at her and waved his wand with _'reparo'_, and to the girl's amazement, the hideous porcelain figurine became whole again. She picked it up and examined it minutely. A moment later she looked up at him and matched his grin. "So you are really going to take me out of here?" she chirped.

"Yep – right now! Do you have anything you want? We aren't coming back." Harry looked around and frowned briefly. He couldn't remember owning anything before Hogwarts, except for a couple of stolen broken plastic soldiers Dudley had thrown out, and a few pathetic articles of the whale's cast-off clothing. Harriet was standing there in bare feet and one of Dudley's torn and stained t-shirts that was more of a parody of a dress on the child. She shook her head sadly.

"Can I use the loo first?" she asked softly.

"Sure" Harry nodded, embarrassed. "Probably a real good idea before you appariate for the first time. Don't worry – the Dursleys won't hear a thing." He watched her disappear into the bathroom and called out "Zippy!" The ever-faithful elf appeared with a 'pop'.

"Yes, Master Harry?" Zippy gave an amused bow. "You have lost your good looks, sir."

"Are you familiar with this universe?" Harry asked him, scratching his head in deep thought and ignoring the jab.

"I am familiar with all worlds, Master Harry," the elf answered patiently, waiting for an order.

"I take it Potter Manor is livable and empty, then?" Harry asked, while idly plinking Aunt Petunia's Llardo figurines off the mantle, to shatter on the hearth below. Fifty quid, eighty quid… oh this one was a pricey one! Smash, tinkle, crash.

"Empty except for myself and the elves, Master Harry. Do you wish to bring Mistress Harriet there?"

"Yes – I think that's best. Are all the wards still in place?" Harry started in on the Precious Moments statues in the curio cabinet. He really hated those big-eyed things. Crack, pow, tinkle. Boy it felt great.

"The wards are strong and safe, except for Albus Dumbledore – you will need to alter them to take away his knowledge and access to the manor. Yes, Master Harry, you can apparate there with Mistress Harriet." Zippy rubbed his hands in anticipation. Two young Potters to serve! House-elf heaven.

"Did Hedwig arrive there by any chance?" Harry asked hopefully, picking up the last of the pastel-painted kiddy statues and doing an exaggerated slam-dunk onto the floor.

"Yes, Master Harry. Your owl arrived about 30 minutes ago."

Harry turned and grinned at Zippy. "Perfect! Please go and prepare rooms for both of us – I'll pop in as soon as she's out of the bathroom. She doesn't have any clothes or belongings so perhaps you could shrink some pjs at the very least for her." Zippy bowed and popped away, just as Harriet came back. She gaped at the shattered remains of Aunt Petunia's figurine collection.

"Are you going to get in trouble for that?" she asked weakly.

"Would you like me to leave them like this or fix them?" he grinned evilly.

But the small, slight girl shook her head sadly. "Please fix them – I don't love the Dursleys any more than they love me, but I don't want to hurt them. I just want to leave."

Harry gave a snort. "I knew you'd say that – I agree" he shrugged while casting multiple '_reparos' _But he did cast a couple of additional charm on the silly nic-nacs – a lasting gift to the relatives that raised him without love and support. They would discover _one _in time. "Now hold on, Harriet. We are going to travel with magic. It doesn't hurt, but it feels really, really weird." He put his arm firmly over the girl's shoulder and held her against his side. Was he this skinny at her age? She felt like she would break in a stiff breeze.

"Rose" the girl whispered with longing. "Please call me Rose".

Harry looked down in surprise. "Rose?"

"My middle name" she answered, looking down and blushing. "Harriet Rose Potter. I hate my first name. I always dreamed of someone liking me enough to call me Rose".

"Well, hang on, Rose" he smiled. He felt such a strong, instant bond to the girl. It was hard to think of her as himself – more like a little sister he could rescue from the hell he grew up in. "Here we go." And with a rush of wind, the Dursley's home was left to the Dursleys alone.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They landed in the foyer of Potter Manor. Harry glanced around, taking in the differences. Although the layout was the same as Harold's world, it was obvious this manor was decorated before the fame of 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', or in this case, 'The-Girl-Who-Lived'. Rose staggered from his side, gasping in shock. She spun on her bare heel and asked him with large open eyes "where are we?"

"Welcome to Potter Manor, Mistress Harriet" Zippy popped in front of the startled girl and bowed low.

"Eeeeeep!" she squealed and jumped into Harry's arms. He laughed and set her down, patting her back in awkward comfort. "W-w-what, who are you?" she asked the elf shyly.

"Rose, this is Zippy. He's a house-elf. House-elves are very powerful magical beings that for some unfathomable reason like to clean up after wizards and witches. Zippy, she likes to go by Rose." Harry spun the girl gently from him so she could meet the elf.

"Hello Zippy. I'm glad to meet you" she answered on autopilot. Although not exactly frightened, the girl started to tremble with the shock and fatigue. It had been an earth-shattering half an hour.

Harry realized she was extremely stressed, so he scooped the fragile girl up in his arms, patting her back. "Zippy, please get me a child's dose of dreamless sleep potion, and have some pj's and her room ready." He held the quivering girl close, who was starting to silently cry.

Another elf popped in with a curtsey. Tiny, plump and motherly, wearing a folksy green dress, she gently patted Rose on the arm. "Mistress Rose, I is your personal elf, Sally. You won't remember me, but I used to help Mistress Lily feed and clothe you. Let me take you up to your bedroom – you can talk with Master Harry in the morning."

Rose nodded dully and let the elf lead her up the curved staircase. Sally called over her shoulder "I'll make sure she takes the potion, Master Harry, and watch her during the night."

Harry smiled, watching her go. Turning to the parlor, he sat in a thickly padded and comfortable chair and popped open a butterbeer that Zippy wordlessly brought him. "What are you thinking about, Master Harry?" the elf asked kindly.

"Please, Zippy – call me Harry. I beg you – elf to elf. No more Master this and Master that – please?" The wizard gave Zippy a beseeching look. He must have spoken that title a million times in the last two years as a servant, and it was usually followed by punishment.

Zippy smiled. "Yes, Harry. I will do so. Now what is troubling you?"

Green eyes glanced around the room. "I guess I feel a bit overwhelmed, Zippy. I never liked how house-elves are treated, but living as one really got to me. I can't thank you enough for all your help in all these worlds." Harry paused to take a deep drink from his beer. "And I can't tell you how much it offends me to see someone else treated the way I was." His eyes glanced up in the direction of the bedroom Rose was sleeping in. "I can handle being abused myself, but to see a poor little girl in that situation – my blood just boils!"

"You are learning empathy in your travels, Harry," the elf explained softly while summoning another couple butterbeers, and opening one for himself. "Not all the lessons you have to learn before you can defeat your Voldemort are in magic and dueling. You had stilted emotions with your betrayals and abuse, and no way to easily start to heal from them, as Dumbledore had taken all the adults out of your life." Zippy examined him shrewdly, with a twinkle in his eye. "I notice you don't flinch or tense up when touched like you used to – even after two years of living as one of my kind. And the Harry I met at the beginning of your travels pretty much ignored misery and pain around him – you felt like it was just part of life."

Harry looked at him with surprise and started thinking back on the last few adventures. Zippy was right. Between worlds with loyal friends, and several worlds with loving parents, knowing that Sirius was alive and well… he _was_ beginning to trust adults more, think things through instead of acting on emotion and instinct, and to care. Really care. He gave a dry chuckle. "So you are saying that fate is making me grow up a bit?"

Zippy smiled warmly and toasted him, clinking bottles together as they sat in comfortable companionship on the warm chairs. "Grow up, Harry? Were you ever a child? No, I think that fate is helping you heal – that's all."


	27. First Day As A Family

**First Day as a Family – Chapter 27**

Harry woke early with the sun, yawning. He always loved the bed in this room. He glanced around contentedly. Zippy had led him to his typical and comfortable guest room, upholstered in deep blues and greens, with a nurturing feel to it. He had declined his parent's bedroom – the manor belonged to Rose, and she would want to explore and savor every trace of the parents she never knew.

"Zippy" he called out, and the faithful elf popped in. "Did you get any sleep last night, my friend?" he asked the elf suspiciously.

"Yes, Harry – I went to bed right after you" the elf smiled patiently.

"Good. Now teach me about the wards if you will" Harry grinned. "We need to make sure my pal Albus doesn't have a clue how to find Rose. Any idea if he is a jerk in this world?" Harry sat up in bed; feet crossed comfortably, and glanced out the window. It was a beautiful summer day.

"I'll be right back with your breakfast, Harry, and we will have a nice long chat" Zippy replied and popped off again.

The elf returned in record time with a lovely British breakfast on a tray. He set it in front of Harry on the bed, and the wizard gestured to the other side of the repast. Zippy gladly hopped up on the mattress opposite Harry and poured himself a cup of tea.

"Is Rose still asleep?" he asked the elf around a mouth full of crumpet.

Zippy nodded while blowing on his hot brew. "Yes, Master Harry. We gave her a generous children's dose of dreamless sleep. The poor child was badly exhausted, is malnourished and fairly bruised all over from her stay with the Dursleys. She should wake in an hour or so. We will start her on a regime of nutritional potions at that time. I took the liberty of healing her bruises."

The two ate in silence for a bit. "Boy, Zippy – you are the master tea maker" Harry sipped appreciatively. "Dumbledork's was never this good."

"Conjured tea is never as good as true brewing" the elf sniffed. Harry nodded with a grimace, thinking of the 'great scrapheap'. "Anyway, Harry, here's the story on the wards. Once wards are established on a house, they need to be renewed on occasion. Frequency depends upon use – magical beings entering and leaving a warded location drain magic from the wards if they are not people originally keyed into them. Magical beings keyed to the wards strengthen them. Potter Manor has been empty except for Sally, four other elves and myself, and we were all keyed in, so the wards have maintained." The elf paused to sip more tea and studied the boy's face. "Sadly, Albus Dumbledore is keyed in and could have entered at any time. I am pleased to say he has not been here since the night of your parent's death. Yes, this world's Dumbledore is a meddler."

"Hmmm – so how do we take him out of the wards? Will he still remember how to get here? And will he realize he's been removed?" Harry poked a sausage around his plate with his fork, frowning slightly.

"You need to be in a meditative state, Harry. Then contact the wards – they are a conscious entity and will accept you, even though you are not of this universe." Zippy sat back and drained his cup. "The headmaster will not realize he has been removed until he wishes to visit next – once he arrives at Godric's Hollow and nears the manor, he will find his memory instantly wiped. You can instruct the wards to even return him back where he apparated or portkeyed from."

"Heh" Harry chuckled. "I'll get right on it in a second. But before Rose wakes up, what condition is this house in? I take it our parent's bodies were removed…?"

"Masters Lily and James are buried in the family cemetery on the grounds." Zippy gave Harry an affronted look. "The damage to the manor in their final battle was repaired once the aurors had finished their investigation."

"Hey – don't be offended!" Harry held up placating hands to the elf. "I had to ask. I'm going to grab a shower and then talk with the wards." He climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom with a shake of his head. Elves could be so touchy at times.

After his morning abolitions were taken care of the green-eyed wizard settled himself into a comfortable overstuffed chair in the room he had claimed as is own. He was itching with curiosity, wanting to check out the manor and peek in on his 'sister' (as he quickly came to think of Rose), but he felt the wards had priority. Who know – perhaps Dumbledore of this universe is keeping an eye on the Dursleys. If that's the case, he could discover she was missing soon.

He closed his eyes and calmed his racing thoughts, seeking the place of his magical core. There – glowing golden, with rainbow threads peeling off and winding away in every direction. How altogether lovely it was – Harry wondered if everyone's core looked like this. As he contemplated the colors and patterns of his magic, he sent his thoughts out, seeking the entity of the manor's wards. As the thoughts left his brain, new colors and threads broke away from his core and flew away into a murky distance.

_Yes, Eldest Potter of the Manor. I hear and obey._

The voice in Harry's mind was rich yet whispery, filled with power. He sent his request to the nameless voice, the color of runes and the shape of protection. _"Could you please take Albus Dumbledore out of the wards? And if he tries to access the manor, please return him back to where he came from, memory of the manor removed from his mind?"_

_It is done, Eldest Potter._

"_Who now has access to Potter Manor?"_ he asked the wards.

_Yourself and Lady Harietta Rose Potter, Lord Sirius Black, the six house elves of Potter Manor, the owl Hedwig. Peter Pettigrew and owls that have no tracking charms upon them have limited access._

"_PETER PETTIGREW?" _Harry gave the mental equivalent of a shout_. "How did he get partial access – what does it give him?" _Harry was understandably confused. If Peter was made the secret keeper for his parents, like it had been on his world, he should have full access and the wards should acknowledge him as secret keeper.

The hollow, whispery voice of the wards answered him. _The one named Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore altered me to remove Peter Pettigrew as secret keeper and give himself that authority. Peter Pettigrew can find Potter Manor, but his approach will alert the Wizard._

"_Completely remove Pettigrew, but alert me if he attempts to enter the manor" _Harry instructed the wards. _"Who is the secret keeper now?"_

_You are, Eldest Potter._

"_What owls have access to the manor?"_

_All clean owls have access. Owls with tracking charms can not enter, and I will notify you._

Harry backed out of his meditative state and blinked a few times. So Dumbledore knew for sure that Sirius was innocent, but let him go to jail anyway. Obviously he wanted poor Rose to suffer with the Dursleys, instead of having a normal witch's childhood in her family home. The teen gave a shuddering intake of breath. His heart ached for the child, and the child within himself, and he vowed to help her in any way he could.

He wandered down the hall and peeked in Rose's bedroom, as the door was cracked open. Sally was laying out a breakfast at the small table for her charge, and the sounds of a shower were coming from the bath. "Hey, Sally, does Rose have enough clothes? What does she need?"

Sally looked up with a pleased smile. "I have shrunk a set of your mother's robes for today, Master Harry. We will look through some clothing catalogs I got while she eats and mail order what she needs."

"Great work" Harry sighed with relief. Taking a girl clothes shopping was not his idea of a good time, and he didn't want to leave the wards for a few days at least. Then if Dumbledore, or Death Eaters, learned she was missing they could avoid any searching for her.

Rose left the bathroom twirling in her new 'dress'. The robes were so soft and pretty – they were her mum's, according to Sally, her strange little elf friend. Rose had never had anything so nice and new before. She sat down to a neatly set little table in her bedroom with the most delicious breakfast she had ever had in her life (which wasn't much considering all the Dursleys had ever given her in the morning was a single slice of burnt, dry toast).

For the next few hours Harry sipped tea while she nibbled and they talked and talked well into the late morning. Rose Potter learned about the magical world, and how her parents really met their deaths. She learned about the evil wizard Voldemort who probably wasn't dead. Harry told her about Dumbledore – the greatest wizard in the world, but a master manipulator who had decided to leave her with the Dursleys, and left her knowing of her abuse. And she learned of her Godfather, Sirius Black, suffering in prison and innocent of the crimes he was accused of.

It was close to 1:00 when they stood and stretched stiff muscles from sitting so long. Hand and hand they explored the manor with Zippy and Sally, Rose shaking her head in disbelief. This time yesterday she was scrubbing floors on an empty stomach, and today she was a witch and owner of a magnificent estate. The home was huge, and the portraits spoke! She had relatives to get to know now.

With trepidation the two Potters entered the master bedroom of Lily and James. Zippy assured them he had left it untouched, except for dusting and cleaning, since the night of their deaths. One never knew when they might need hairs or nail clippings for polyjuice or other potions, so those had been carefully preserved and were available.

With tears in her eyes the tiny girl gently climbed on the bed and sniffed the pillows, untouched for eight years. "I remember this smell, Harry" she sobbed gently. "Mum's hair – it must be the smell of her shampoo." Harry gaped a bit – memory was a funny thing that something like that could stay in her head after all those years. He looked around the room to give her some privacy and was startled to see a still portrait of the Potters hanging above the fireplace across from the bed.

"Rose – look at that!" Harry shouted with excitement. She flung herself up from the pillow, eyes damp, with a startled reaction to his yell. "Ooops – sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, but that's our folks!" he gestured wildly at the portrait.

"Our?" Rose asked, looking at Harry, then the portrait, then at Harry again. "Harry – who are you anyway? You've told me about this world, my parents, my enemies and my friends, but where do you come in?" She sat on the bed, planted with arms across her chest, waiting for answers.

Harry smiled sadly. This was going to be the most difficult to explain. "Well, let's wake up this painting first, and then I can explain that to everyone".

She leapt to her feet and ran to the fireplace. "We'll be able to talk to them?" she yipped like a puppy.

With a grin he scooped the girl up and held her to the canvas. "Just touch the frame and say '_activate'_, Rose."

She did so, and they watched breathlessly as the man and woman's colors brightened and they slowly started moving. It was sort of like watching something thaw out. Green and hazel eyes blinked a couple times, glanced at each other and around the room before settling on Rose and Harry.

"James?" Lily's portrait asked Harry in confusion, looking at him carefully while glancing repeatedly at her husband by her side. "Rosie?" she asked her daughter, who stared back and nodded with tears falling down her cheeks.

"Er, I'm not James," Harry shook his head in embarrassment. "It's kind of a long story."

"We've been dead for a while I take it?" James asked gently, never taking his eyes off the two youths before him. "Why has it taken so long to activate us?"

"I didn't know anything about you, or wizards, or magic, or this place 'till last night!" Rose wailed with a fountain of fresh tears.

Harry picked her up and gently patted her back and shushed her, rocking her in his arms. He understood how bewildering it all was for the poor girl. Zippy conjured a couple of overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace and Harry sat down, keeping Rose in his lap. She calmed and sniffled a few times and turned so she could look at her parents more.

With a deep breath he started in. "OK, my name is Harry James Potter" he began.

James frowned at him skeptically. "There's never been any Harry Potters in our family" he growled.

"Just hang tight and hear me out" Harry sighed. "I'm your only son from another dimension. I've been jumping world to world, helping defeat Voldemorts in training to take down my own. Hopefully when I'm done all Voldys will be gone and the balance between light and dark or some such nonsense will be restored. Jeez – it sounds like a Star Wars movie."

"Why is Rose arriving just now?" Lily asked, trembling. "How is she even alive?"

"As with myself in my world, after Voldy killed you two, he tried to AK her, and the curse bounced off and removed his spirit from his body. Most of the wizarding world thinks he's dead, but he's not." Harry ran his fingers soothingly through his 'sister's' hair, which wasn't braided yet as she stared at him, open mouthed. "Dumbledore left her on the Dursleys' doorstep that very night."

"WHAT?" Lily screamed in anger, and James clenched his fists. "Petunia and Vernon _loathe _magic! What about Sirius, or the Longbottoms, or the Bones as our will ordered?"

Harry shook his head sadly. "Dumbledore ignored your will. Sirius is in jail, framed for the murder of Peter Pettegrew and 12 muggles, and for revealing the location of Godric's Hollow." He raised his hand to stop the angry protests that were about to come out of the Potter's mouths. "We know he was innocent and Wormtail betrayed you. Dumbledore knew too, but he chose to ignore it and allow Sirius to be jailed without a trial. Dumbledore is not your friend."

"My little Rosebud" James practically whispered at his daughter, as he and his wife pressed their painted hands against the canvas in a futile attempt to touch their child. "We're so sorry, darling."


	28. A Family Needs A Pet

**A Family Needs a Pet – Chapter 28**

The next few days flew by in heady delight for the two Potters and their elves. Harry and Rose got to know each other much better, and she got intimately acquainted with her parents, who took great delight in following her portrait to portrait around the manor.

The numbing shock of learning about magic, learning _she_ had magic, and learning Harry was actually _her _in some strange way slowly faded to a level of acceptance. From acceptance it flowed to excitement over her new and glorious life. A real home, with family (as odd as it was) was all the girl had ever dreamed of, and it was now hers.

On the third day of Rose's new life in Potter Manor, Harry was explaining some of the fundamentals of magic and showing her his first year school books when he was interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket. Reaching in with a frown, he pulled out an enchanted knut and placed it on the desk between them. "Well, _that_ took long enough. Want to see the Dursley's reaction to your escape?" he grinned at her.

With a touch of fear the girl nodded her assent. Harry touched the coin with his wand tip and muttered an incantation, and a picture, not unlike a projection TV, shown from the coin to the near wall. They watched as Petunia, with her typical arrogant look of distaste, stood next to the cupboard door waiting for Vernon to undo the multiple locks. "Come on, Vernon. She's had enough time to think on her _freakishness_. I need her to stop lollygagging and get to work" the giraffe-necked woman sniffed.

Harry gave a snort. "Better a freak than a heartless monster" he growled.

"How can we see them, Harry?" she asked in a small voice, gaping wide-eyed at the scene projected on the wall.

He gave a giggle. "Oh, I charmed one of Petunia's stupid statues to watch the cupboard. Whenever someone touches the door for more than a couple seconds, it notifies me and let's me watch through the creepy thing's eyes." He really hated Precious Moments.

Puffing, out of breath, Vernon removed the last of the padlocks, leaned heavily against the wall for support and stood up, flinging the door open. "Get out of there, girl" he bellowed. Nothing happened, and Rose found herself smirking with anticipation. Vernon banged on the wall next to the door and yelled even louder "get OUT I said!" Puzzled, her aunt and uncle leaned over to look in the door at the same time, cracking their skulls together with a sound not unlike hollow coconuts. Between cussing and glaring, Petunia finally got on her knees and crawled into the cupboard, to find it empty of one Harriet Rose Potter.

"She's gone, Vernon!" Petunia's voice echoed muffled from the cramped space.

"Whuuu? Can't be – it was locked completely!" the fat man blustered angrily. "Feel around – them freaks can turn invisible, can't they?"

"Nobody's here, Vernon!" his wife snapped furiously as she backed out of the tiny cupboard.

They gaped at each other wordlessly for a moment. "Do you think _they_ came and got her?" she asked fearfully. They both glanced around the room in fright, trying to spy out hidden wizards.

With an unfeeling shrug Vernon spun on his heel and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove. "Well, good riddance to bad rubbish. Now we can be a _normal_ family again. They just better not try to bring her back."

Petunia breathed a sigh of relief. It was like a great weight had been lifted from her bony shoulders. She had done her duty, as ordered by that freak Dumbledore. No one could ask more of her. And it wasn't as if she could ask the freaks if they took her or not – she had no way to contact them even if she wanted to. It had to be them – how else did they get her out of the cupboard without the keys Vernon kept in his pocket at all times? And obviously, seeing the lack of punishment, keeping the brat locked in a cupboard didn't bother them either.

Harry watched with silent fury at the lack of concern and remorse, knowing his Dursleys was exactly the same. He patted Rose on the arm, shaking his head. "Now you can totally forget about them, kiddo" he smiled, chucking her chin gently with his knuckle. "They aren't even going to attempt to look for you, and Dumbledore will not know you are missing unless he decides to check up on you – which is highly doubtful. He never checked up on me in my world. The cupboard door has a charm on it to alert me if someone opens the door – I can set it up for the elves to monitor it in case Dumbles come a-calling."

A single tear trickled down the young girl's face. She hated the Dursleys every bit as much as they hated her, but their cold-hearted animosity still stung deeply.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It had been a month, and Harry had given Rose one of his extra wands collected from a dead Harry in another universe, as it was completely compatible with the girl and all tracking charms were long since removed. He had also brewed the potion to remove her magical bindings from Dumbledore. She had picked up first year spells like a duck to water and was in her element. But Harry knew he couldn't stay in this world forever, raising the child like she needed. Besides, she had a godfather unfairly suffering in Azkaban. It was time to do something about it.

The Potters were sitting in front of the portrait of the elder-Potters, Sally and Zippy on chairs of their own. They were discussing how to free Sirius.

"Well, asking Dumbles for help is out. He already knows he's innocent, and he obviously wanted Rose with the Dursleys" Harry frowned, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Was Sirius still in Azkaban in all your travels, Harry?" Lily asked him in her gentle way.

Harry shook his head negatively. "Actually, he had escaped in most dimensions."

"How?" Rose asked curiously. What Harry had taught her about dementors was terrifying and pretty impossible to escape from without a wand.

"He's an animagus" Harry grinned at the shock on Rose's face and the surprise at his knowledge on his parent's. "He found he could squeeze through the bars, and the dementors don't affect him in dog form." He sipped some tea and looked thoughtfully in the cup. "I wonder if I could find a half-dead black dog at the pound and bring him for a visit and swap-out?"

Lily shook her head slowly, pondering the thought. "I don't think you could swap a dog for a wizard without somebody catching on."

"What if you gave the dog polyjuice to look like Sirius after squeezing him through the bars?" Harry asked.

"No – polyjuice is poisonous to animals. It will just kill the poor beast, not change into a human form" she frowned, tapping her lower lip. "Besides, even if it _did_ work, it would only last an hour."

"Master Harry" Sally spoke up timidly, "polyjuice works with elves, but it lasts a whole year. I volunteer to help rescue Mistress Rose's godfather."

There was an immediate chorus of 'no-ways' thrown at the sweet and devoted elf.

"But…" Zippy quietly interrupted, "a house elf might be the solution."

"Nobody is sacrificing their lives – we have to find a way to rescue Sirus, preferably unknown to the Ministry and Dumbles, without anyone dying in the process" Harry stated firmly.

"What if a loyal Potter elf was _already_ dying?" Zippy asked. "A willing elf could easily squeeze through the bars, take the polyjuice and your godfather could escape as a dog".

"But what a terrible place to die!" Lily sputtered indignantly, and James nodded in agreement.

"Besides," James added, "I don't think the aurors will take to a dog walking around the prison halls without some serious investigations."

But Zippy persisted with his train of thought. "At this moment Tipton is in his attic bedroom, too old and weak to work. He doesn't have but a couple months at the most. House elves will do anything for their masters – he would consider it a death with honor."

Harry gave a low snort of disbelief. "I'd have to hear him say that – no offense, Zippy."

"Tipton is dying?" James asked with obvious sorrow and affection. "I guess he must be awfully old at this point."

"His memories of serving you, Master James, is his comfort" Zippy gently answered. "I can take you to see him, Master Harry. He can not leave his bed anymore."

"Hmmmmm" Harry pondered. "Perhaps this could work. We could disillusion a mattress and magically warmed blankets and food to make his last days as comfortable as possible, and I know how to get him in and Sirius out without arousing suspicion…."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Nymphadora Tonks sat in the Leaky Caldron, hunched over the bar. She was sipping on a fire whiskey, shaking her head slowly as she recalled the conversations of yesterday.

Harry Potter, Harriet from another dimension, came to her and took her to Potter Manor and put her under a wizard's oath not to reveal anything she learned. Harriet Rose was not with her aunt and uncle but living at Potter Manor, recovering from a short life of serious abuse. And the biggest shock, her formerly favorite cousin Sirius was innocent. And she could get him out.

Naturally she was going to do it. Nobody should suffer in Azkaban if they were not guilty. If she was caught it would mean her job and perhaps even taking the cell next to her famous cousin, but she had swiftly come to the conclusion it was worth the risk.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The day dawned bright and clear. Rose blinked at her parents who were currently standing in a landscape in the parlor, next to the newly finished portrait of Tipton, still and sleeping. Tipton had been painted by Harry (taught by 'Uncle Archie') in a formal style, standing next to a small table laden with feather duster, brushes and cleaning solutions. The elf had wept with joy when it was completed, knowing it would allow him to serve his beloved Potters forever now. Rose leaned over shouted down the stairs in Harry's trunk "everything ok down there?"

"Yah – come on down, Rose" Harry's voice floated up the stairs.

She ran down and made her way to the 'guest room' in Harry's magical trunk. Tipton, ancient, frail, but smiling lay in the bed with Sally and Harry fussing over him. "Now you're sure about this, Tipton?" Harry asked for the thousandth time. She walked up and gently pressed a kiss to the elf's wrinkled forehead.

"Master, Mistress" the dying elf wheezed with a smile. "Dying for one's masters is the greatest honor for a house-elf. And you have given me a portrait in Potter Manor! I can serve Master James and all Potters forever now, without this cursed body failing me. Let's go before I croak here."

Rose burst into tears, hugged the elf as firmly as she dared, and ran up the stairs. Harry smiled after her, and turned back to Tipton as Sally fluffed his pillows. "Tonks is expected any time now, my friend, so I've got to leave you. I really can't express my gratitude, Tipton. Your story will be told as long as there are Potters on the earth." With a firm hug of his own, Harry pulled the blanket up a little more on the loyal servant and left him with Zippy and Sally.

Harry shut the trunk and shrunk it just as Tonks stepped out of the floo in the foyer. She brushed off her robes and smiled nervously at the boy as he continued to work his magic on the miniaturized trunk. Farther and farther he shrunk it, until he worked it into a small rectangle no more than an inch long. Then with a complicated motion of his wand, he transfigured the outside to look like jade.

The metamorphmagus came over to watch as Harry took the small cube that now looked like stone and gently pressed it into a 'cage' made of silver wire, hanging from a silver chain. He handed it to Tonks with a sad smile and quipped "your jewelry, madam. Simply tap it with your finger to enlarge, tap twice to shrink again."

With a grin she pulled the chain over her head, resting the transfigured trunk under her shirt against her chest. "I decided not to request duty today, Harry" she mentioned as she slowly started to morph her looks. "I was concerned that if they discovered Tipton or something screwed up, they'd look at me first if all of a sudden I was pulling Azkaban duty for the first time in ages, and by request."

"I take it you have another way to get to Sirius then?" Harry quirked an eyebrow, arms folded against his chest.

Tonks turned to face him, a wide grin on her face. Gone was the girl's normal features and bubble-gum pink hair. In its place was a slightly older woman, handsome and faintly sad. Long dark brown hair and brown eyes that glistened with tears replaced her usual features. "Meet Gwennyth Symthe – wronged girl friend of the former playboy Sirius Black."

"Ah!" Harry nodded with approval. "A visit from an old flame wanting answers! Excellent! Then if Sirius starts acting different, the guards will chock it up to the shock of seeing Gwennyth for the first time in years! Errrr – who's Gwennyth anyway?"

"Nobody" she shrugged. "I made her up. Sirius was such a ladies man nobody could keep track of them all."

Rose came over still sniffling slightly, and wordlessly gave Tonks a strong hug. "Thank you" she whispered, and returned to her seat against the wall to watch.

"Yah Tonks – thanks" Harry agreed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll be waiting here for you. Good luck."

With a wink, the metamorphmagus turned and tossed a hand full of floo powder on the flames. "Azkaban visitor check-in" she called and stepped into the green fire, disappearing from sight.

"And now we wait" Harry sighed as he took a seat next to Rose. An elf brought tea and biscuits for the pair and popped away. It was going to be a long, excruciating morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"A pretty young thing like yourself is really wanting to see Black?" the guard, a greasy slimeball by the name of Alton Murry, leered at Tonks. He kept glancing at her, rarely looking above her neck, as he wrote in a seldom used log book. "Wand, sweetie."

Tonks wordlessly handed over the wand – not her real one but an ancient extra from Potter Manor. She watched as he registered it and then put it in a locked box. "This will be here when you're done with your little…visit" he practically drooled with a lustful expression she just ached to slap off his face. "Are you sure you don't want an escort – for your protection?" the hopeful question was purred.

"No, I'll be fine" she glared. "Which cell is his?"

"Tim! Come 'ere" Murry yelled at a closed door. Another auror, younger and far more gentlemanly appearing, entered the room. "Escort the young lady to Black's suite, and then give her some…privacy" he ordered with disgusting sarcasm. With a nod and polite gesture, Tim motioned 'Gwennyth' through another door and down an impossibly depressing hallway. Tonks breathed a sigh of relief. Tim was a nice guy she'd worked with on occasion – it would be easy to get him to stay down the hall out of sight and hearing range.

They wound their way deeper and deeper into the bowels of Azkaban. Occasional screams and shrieks of insane prisoners bombarded their ears, and the air was rank with the stench of unwashed bodies subjected to a lack of plumbing. The walls were cold with the years of dementors influence, and Tonks wrapped her robes tighter around her shoulders with a shiver, and forced some believable tears from her eyes.

"Here we are" Tim said politely, and gestured to a cell on the left. The wall was entirely made of iron bars, giving the prisoner no ability to hide. "I'll just wait down here and give you some time alone. If you need me, just call." With that, the auror walked down the hall about four cell blocks down and politely waited, turning away to give her some privacy.

With a last glance at his direction, Tonks swiftly leaned into the bars and examined the cell. It had to be Sirius, but it was hard to tell. The prisoner was lying on a filthy bed of worn straw against the left, feet toward the bars, facing the stone wall. What clothing the poor man had was tattered and crusted with dirt and debris, and his hair was matted and brown with caked on dust and refuse. The figure was impossibly skinny, and exhaustion simply poured off the man. He never even turned his head until Tonks softly called "Sirius?"

Sirius turned over and propped himself weakly on his elbow, eyeing her suspiciously. "Do I know you?" he asked in a raspy voice, rusty from lack of use.

"Not looking like this" Tonks grinned as she popped the 'jade' cube out of her necklace, and reached through the bars to set it on the floor. "Stay back" she whispered. "We're getting you out of here. Don't yell, and for goodness sake, just trust me." She tapped the cube and it expanded back to a trunk, which she flipped open, reaching through the bars. A quick glance down the hall verified Tim was being a gentleman and ignoring her.

With the lid of the trunk open, Zippy came up the stairs, carrying Tipton in his arms, followed closely by Sally. "What? What is going on?" Sirius whispered in a rough voice tinged with hope. "Tipton? What's wrong with you?"

Sally reached up and yanked a couple hairs out of Sirius' head, handing them to Zippy who had just placed the ancient elf on the edge of the straw. "Not now, Master Sirius" she whispered. "Get up and follow me." Sirius got unsteadily to his feet, and leaning heavily on Sally he climbed into the trunk, shooting Tonks one last questioning look before descending the stairs.

As Tonks kept an eye on Tim and pretended to be talking to Sirius, Zippy swiftly transformed some straw to a comfortable and disillusioned mattress with permanent warming charms. Tipton sank into the bed with a grateful sigh, and Zippy covered him with disillusioned blankets Sally tossed up the stairs in his direction. "Feel the edges of mattress, Tipton" Zippy hissed in a low tone. "Each of those invisible beads will enlarge to a full meal when pulled off the bed. There are enough for a year. Leftovers will disappear in an hour." Tipton nodded with a weak smile, snuggling into the bed deeper. Zippy added the hairs from Sirius to a potion he took from his vest and carefully fed it to the elf, who slowly grew and morphed to the carbon copy of Sirius Black.

Although sickly looking, this Sirius was too clean, and now quite naked from the elf clothes breaking at the seams. Zippy swiftly transfigured the torn scraps into copies of the rags Sirius had been wearing, and then dirtied him up with magic. The illusion was complete. With a formal bow to Tipton, Zippy turned and entered the trunk.

With a final glance down the hall, Tonks turned back and tapped the trunk twice, reducing it back to a tiny cube. She grabbed it and stuck it back in her necklace, and hid it under her clothing again, feeling her heart pounding with adrenaline. "Tipton – thanks again" she whispered at the elf. "I'm going to hold a fake conversation with Sirius for a bit and then leave. Will you be all right?"

Tipton semi rolled over and smiled weakly at her with a wink. "All right, Mistress Tonks? I _am_ dying you know."

The tears came for real this time and she sobbed out loud.

"Oh Mistress – please don't cry. Tipton was just having fun. This bed is comfy and warm, and the dementors don't like elves. I will be fine, and I'll see you when my painting wakes up." And with a contented sigh he turned back to the wall. "Tipton is a good elf. Tipton is luckiest elf in the world."

"Farewell, faithful friend of the Potters" she whispered. Then in a slightly louder voice "I'm sorry I can't help you more, Sirius. If you won't explain it to me then you leave me with no choice but to believe you are here justly."

With a forced attitude of self-righteousness, she spun and walked back down the hall to the auror who looked up in sympathy. "Let's go" she said with a sigh, wiping the tears from her face. Quietly he brought her back to the check-in, where she collected her wand from the still-leering Murry, and floo'd to the Leaky Caldron.

Tonks practically ran out of the Leaky Caldron into the alley, and weakly leaned against the nearest wall. She had done it – Sirius Black was free! Soon the famous prisoner of Azkaban would die alone and unmissed in jail, and nobody would come looking for his alive and innocent reality. With a grin she apparated to Potter Manor with a loud and sloppy _crack._


	29. Padfoot Comes Home

**Padfoot Comes Home – Chapter 29**

Sirius stumbled down the stairs of the trunk, his legs trembling with fatigue from years of disuse. "Where are we going?" he asked the elf assisting him.

"To Potter Manor, Master Sirius" Sally answered, leading him to the bed that lay ready for him in the parlor of the trunk. "Mistress Rose has been rescued from the Dursleys and needs a guardian and we all know you is innocent." The elf swiftly _Scourgified _years of filth off the poor man and tucked him in, casting a warming charm on the sheets. "Here is a nutritional potion, and a potion to clean your body of any bad bugs" she chirped cheerfully, helping the man with the two vials. He swallowed them with a grimace from the bitter taste. "You just lay and rest – we be home soon."

The gaunt-faced man looked around the cheery trunk room. "Whose trunk is this? And who was that lady that rescued me?" His eyes squinted at the torches flickering on the stone walls, and he shaded them with a trembling hand. Sally smiled as she started combing his tangled hair, cleaner than a few moments ago thanks to the charms, but still quite knotted.

"This trunk is Master Harry's. You meet him soon. The lady carrying us back is your cousin, Mistress Tonks. She is under disguise." The elf started humming happily – this was going to take a while to clean!

Zippy came down the stairs and shut the door as the lid came down. He bowed slightly to Sirius and sat next to the man. "Welcome, Master Sirius. It's been too long" he greeted the disheveled man.

"Zippy?" Sirius asked with exhausted delight. "We're really going to Potter Manor?"

The elf smiled at the man. "Yes, sir. Try and relax – we don't know how long it will take Mistress Tonks to get us home. In the meanwhile, let me tell you what has been going on since your unfortunate incarceration…"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry and Rose were pacing the floor in front of the fireplace, chewing fingernails to nubs in nervous frustration. It had only been one hour – it could take hours more, depending upon how many checks Tonks had to go through, and if anyone became suspicious. But soon the wards gave the gentle warning of the arrival of a friend, and Tonks appeared with another _crack _a second later.

"How did it go? Are you OK?" Harry asked the woman frantically. Rose was bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

With a grin the auror removed the faux jade cube and tossed it to Harry while reverting her looks back to her standard pink hair. "Smooth as veela's hair, Harry. But if I ever run into Auror Murry again," and she gave a shudder of revulsion, "I might have to hex his manly bits off."

Rose jumped up and kissed Tonks on the cheek and the three of them raced up the stairs to Sirius' new bedroom. Harry gently placed the cube on the floor, enlarged it and opened the lid, peering down the stairs with Rose at his shoulder. "We're home now, guys!" he called into the trunk. Scuffling could be heard, and long moments later, Sally and Zippy came up the stairs levitating a weak but grinning Sirius Black.

"Rosebud?" he asked weakly, reaching a trembling hand to stroke the young girl's cheek. "James?" he cried in bewilderment looking at Harry.

She cradled his hand to her face, dripping tears upon it. "Yes, Godfather" she whispered.

"Not quite," Harry grinned at the stunned man.

They placed Sirius in bed and swiftly got to work on the ex-convict. Clean pajamas, more potions, and several people employing intense wandwork to determine the bewildered man's state of health were set into motion. All the while this was going on, Rose sat by Sirius head on his bed and excitedly told him about the past month and everything that had been going on in her life.

"So you are Rose from another dimension?" Sirius turned his head and examined Harry who was discussing something with the elves at the foot of the bed. It was creepy how much this Harry looked like James, except for Lily's eyes. But his dear friends, James and Lily, had joined the conversations from paintings in the room, so he knew for certain they were indeed dead.

Harry looked up and winked at him. "I prefer to think that Rose is Harry from another dimension, thank you." Rose pelted him with a pillow. Laughing, Harry caught it and came closer. "Anyway, you and I were real close in my world, Padfoot. You ended up in another dimension yourself that I visited a while back." He glanced down at a parchment in his hands, looked up and smiled at the wizard. "According to these findings, you must have discovered early on that your animagus form gave you protection from the dementor's ravages. Your mind is in fantastic shape for someone coming out of six years of Azkaban."

"Six years?" Sirius asked weakly. "Was it really six years? Nobody spoke to me, nobody visited. I had no idea…" he sank further into the pillows propping him up.

Zippy brought over some thin chicken soup and crackers. "Slowly, now, Master Sirius – no gluping."

He took the spoon from the tray now resting on his lap and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor of the broth. After a few swallows of real food he glanced between Harry and Tonks. "So what's the story with Remus. Why didn't he fight for me?"

Tonks and Harry exchanged nervous glances. After a couple awkward moments the metamorphmagus cleared her throat and stammered nervously "cousin – how much did Zippy tell you about Dumbledork?"

Sirius growled softly. "Enough to confirm what I had figured out in Azkaban. He's a manipulative, evil, foul creature that allowed me to rot in hell so he could influence our Rose here."

The pink-haired wizard nodded, patting his hand. "Yep. He's that and more, but sadly ultra-powerful too. It's real easy to fall under his charm – especially if you are weak-willed…" she let her voice trail off, allowing Sirius to fill in the blanks.

"Remus never was the Alpha" Sirius concluded sadly. "He always followed our lead, trying to talk us out of getting into more trouble."

"Yah" Tonks agreed. "Remus is a great guy – someone you want at your back in a duel. But he would never go against the headmaster, never dream of questioning the man's motives or methods."

A slow tear trickled down the man's face. "What now?" he asked Harry, looking to him for leadership almost instinctively.

"Get better – that's first" Harry chuckled warmly. "Rose here has a little over a year before she is supposed to start Hogwarts – probably has a year before Dumbles realizes she's flown the Dursley coop." He sat down next to Sirius bed and hooked his hands around a knee, leaning back comfortably. "According to Mum and Dad they have a few sets of 'identities' hidden in the house here for emergencies – a new name and all important related paperwork for you once you are on your feet. Once 'Sirius Black' dies in Azkaban, you can assume a new name and get permanent custody of Rose here. And we need to take care of her little Moldywart problem before school – I refuse to have her go through all the crap I went through in Hogwarts."

"And Wormtail. Don't forget Wormtail" Sirius glowered.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A couple weeks had passed and Sirius was almost completely healed from his six years of torment. Magic could be a fantastic tool – especially in the medical department. Presently he was sitting in a private room at Gringotts, sitting across a solid mahogany conference table from a rather imposing looking goblin.

"Now Mr. _Smith" _the sharp-toothed man growled sarcastically at him, "how may I help you?" The goblin looked and sounded anything but helpful.

Sirius was wearing a hooded cloak that kept his face shadowed and hopefully anonymous. He took a calming breath and spoke at last. "First of all, Mr. Hammerclaw, I understand you have been the Black family representative in this establishment for many years. I need to know how you feel about Mr. Sirius Black."

"Yes I am, yes I have been" the goblin snapped impatiently. "As to my _feelings_ about the incarcerated Mr. Black, I have none. I'm not paid to feel."

"Fine" Sirius spat back. "Then what is Gringott's policy on services for prisoners of the Ministry?"

"Hrump" Mr. Hammerclaw snorted. "Why didn't you ask that first? Gringotts does not concern itself with the status of its clientele. However, if Mr. Black was to escape Azkaban and show up here and attempt to remove anything from his vaults, the Ministry would be notified. The same with any other persons proclaimed an enemy of the government or criminal. Now, if Mr. Black showed up and wanted to change his will or open a new vault, Gringotts could not care less what his status is, and would welcome his galleons with open arms." The goblin leaned back in his chair and eyed the shrouded figure with glittering eyes.

"Just what I wanted to hear" Sirius laughed and lowered his hood.

Mr. Hammerclaw smirked and drummed his long, pointy fingers on the table. "Welcome, Mr. Black. And how can we here at Gringotts assist you today?"

"I need a new will" the dark-haired wizard answered, pulling a sheaf of parchments out of his overcoat…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry, Sirius and Rose sat around the sunny kitchen table of Potter Manor sorting through several packets of paperwork. "OK, I've pulled all the women out of here" Rose called out after several minutes of shuffling through parchment and paper.

"Good job, Rose" Sirius smiled, giving his goddaughter a loving play-punch to her shoulder. "Now I just need to pick which one of these gents I want for the new me." He looked a little lost as he glanced from pile to pile.

"Let's address them one at a time, Padfoot" Harry suggested, pulling the closest stack to himself. "This one first – it's an Alcander Potter. The I.D.'s are all from Greece. He is rumored to be the result of an extra-marital dalliance between my grandfather Charlus and a lady he met on vacation. His mother, Athena Apostolides, never asked Charlus to claim or even acknowledge Alcander, but chose to give him the surname of Potter. No living relatives."

"Hmmm" Sirius pondered while Rose watched with interest. "I assume the potions with each of these would give me any necessary accents. But I don't know much about Greece – never been there. That could be a problem."

"OK" Harry set that stack aside and pulled another one closer to read. "Here is a Stephen Potter. Distant cousin three times removed from Wales. Parents died while young, educated in South Africa. All I.D., with the exception of the birth certificate, is South African."

"Oh, this could work" Sirius looked at the photo happily. "Stephen is fairly close in looks to myself, and accents won't come into play as much if the potion doesn't take care of it."

"But what of the real Stephen Potter?" Rose asked timidly.

Harry and Sirius laughed in unison. "You see, Rosebud" Sirius explained with a chuckle, "Old pureblood families are pretty paranoid. You won't find one that doesn't have emergency funds and at least a few aliases hidden in their homes. One never knows when one might have to disappear – especially when dark wizards have a tendency to try and kill those that don't agree with their charming opinions."

"Yah" Harry agreed. "Already in my trunk I have a nice collection of hairs for polyjuice, a great assortment of wands, and my own portable vault."

She frowned in confusion. "What prevents a bad guy from becoming a Potter then?" she asked in concern.

"Good question," Sirius nodded with approval. "I will have to perform a ritual with vows binding myself to the Potter household. Any ill intensions in my heart and it would kill me."

The young girl picked up the tiny crystal vial that was lying on the stack of Stephen Potter's paperwork and examined it closely. "So Stephen doesn't exist? But this potion will create him? I thought polyjuice only lasted an hour."

"Since Stephen comes with a wand, he most likely did exist and died young" Harry explained. "His elves probably brought his photo, I.D. and wand to the Potters after his death if there were no next of kin to inherit." He touched the vial in his 'sister's' hand gently. "This isn't polyjuice. You are correct – polyjuice only lasts an hour, and it's sludgy and tastes simply awful. This is a bonding potion that will permanently alter a person's DNA. Once Sirius takes this and does the proper ritual, it's goodbye Padfoot, hello Stephen."

"And you are OK with that?" Rose looked at him with huge eyes.

Sirius snorted. "Being a Black was never a huge source of pride for me, Rose. The Potters practically adopted me during my Hogwarts years. There are few light wizards in the Black family. Anyway, even if they caught Wormtail tomorrow, my reputation will probably never recover. It will be far easier to show up with a new identity, away from the manipulations of Dumbles." He took the tiny potion vial from her hand and gazed at it thoughtfully. "As it is, when Tipton passes on the new will is set up for you to inherit the Black estate. I figured we can set up an independent vault for part of the cash so I don't have to touch your money for my needs. Stephen Potter will not contest your parent's already ignored will."

Rose jumped out of her chair and gave Sirius a huge hug. "Godfather, you are welcome to everything I have – I've never had so much in my life!"

The wizard gave the girl a kiss on the top of her head. "Rosebud, I appreciate that – more than you know. But I want you to know I have no interest in your fortunes, and I want to be frugal enough to convince the Ministry that too. We need to make sure I get custody of you in a way so water-tight our pal Dumbles can not override it."

"So have you decided on Stephen then?" Harry asked, shuffling through the remaining stacks of identities.

"Yes – I believe I have" Sirius smiled, glancing at the photo of his face-to-be.

"When do we do this, then?" the green eyed man asked, stacking up the unchosen I.D.'s.

"I think we should wait until after Tipton passes" Sirius murmured thoughtfully. "No one will see me here except you guys and Tonks, and I want to be able to thank Tipton when his portrait wakes up. I feel sort of like thanking him as me as my last act as me – you know what I mean?"

"I still feel sort of guilty about him" Rose sniffed gently. "I mean I'm so glad you are here, Godfather. But wow – I wish he didn't have to die in jail."

"We all do, Rose" Harry agreed quietly. "But his death will give him a lot of meaning, too."


	30. Only The Good Die Young

**Only the Good Die Young – Chapter 30**

It was only a couple days later that Harry and Sirius were reading in the den when Rose's voice came yelling from the foyer "Harry! Godfather! Come quick!" Without hesitation the two men leapt to their feet and ran to the girl they both adored. She was standing in front of Tipton's portrait, with the painted Lily and James watching with interest from a painting next to it, gazing at the image of the faithful elf.

Harry and Sirius stood on either side of the small girl; each with a hand on her shoulders, watching as the portrait slowly woke up. The colors brightened, and the elf slowly started breathing, until after what seemed like forever, he blinked his eyes and looked at the anxious trio.

"Tipton?" Rose asked breathlessly. "Are you here now?"

The painted elf grinned widely. "Yes Mistress Rose. I must have died, 'cause I'm alive here!" He looked around with excitement, and jumped to the landscape to his right, grabbing a laughing James Potter around the knees in a bear-hug. "Master James! I have missed you so!"

The next hour was spent with Rose giggling like crazy, racing Tipton from room to room in the manor. The elf was ecstatic to be young and whole and without the limitations of flesh and blood, and Rose was enjoying a playmate that could keep up with her boundless energy. Harry was fascinated to see Tipton could instantly pop from painting to painting too – James and Lily were not able to apparate as portraits. Elf magic still amazed him – even after two years of welding it.

With a melancholy smile Sirius returned to the den to set up the bonding ritual – once Tipton and Rose got their playing out of their systems, it was time to truly say goodbye to Sirius Black. Harry clapped a concerned hand on the man's back. "Will you be ok, Padfoot?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Yah – I'm cool. I can't wait to see what tomorrow's Daily Prophet has to say about me."

Harry looked concerned. "Well, seeing how lovely the accommodations of Azkaban are, they might not know for a while…"

The man gave a shudder. "Too true" he agreed, but continued to lay out the new wand, potion, and other paraphernalia. "But the time to say goodbye to Padfoot has come. I just hope this changes my scent enough that Moony can't smell any similarity."

"I wonder if your animagus will change" Harry pondered.

"We'll find out soon – won't we" the man smirked in reply.

And so it was, at six in the evening, that Rose and Harry assisted Sirius Black in the ultimate transformation. It was a long ritual involving blood dripped in a stone basin, mixed with the potion, and placed back in the bloodstream. There were many spoken incantations followed by a most serious vow, and Padfoot the Marauder collapsed on the floor in obvious agony, and stood again on shaky feet as Stephen Potter – the long lost relative of Rose.

"Whoa" Rose breathed in awe, gazing at her godfather. Sirius was now a couple inches shorter, with the infamous messy Potter hair. His eyes were brown, unlike James' hazel or Harry and Rose's green (or Sirius's blue), and his complexion was fairer than Sirius's had been. There was no question he was a Potter.

"How do I look?" he asked weakly, sitting heavily in a nearby chair.

"Not like Sirius" she answered shyly. "But you look like a Potter."

"Here" Harry handed him a large mirror. Sirius spent a long time patting his hair and staring at his image.

"Don't bother" Harry and Rose laughed in unison. They had lived their whole lives with Potter hair – nothing was going to tame that thatch.

"So how soon before you adopt me?" Rose asked with interest, examining the man's face carefully.

"We'd better wait a while, Rose" Harry laughed. "First let's get used to calling him Stephen, and we don't want to do it within days of your godfather dying. That would be a tad suspicious."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry had been right. It was a couple days before the cold and stiff body of Sirius Black was discovered. Tonks came to give them a heads-up before the Daily Prophet came out. She was sitting in the kitchen, their favorite room in Potter Manor, sharing a pot of tea with Stephen, Harry and Rose.

"Being an auror and all, I could read the records. Everyone at the office was ogling the file – Black was famous and everyone was curious" she finally spoke after swallowing a ginger biscuit. "They didn't notice he was declining until just a couple weeks ago – prisoners aren't really watched very closely. The guards let the dementors do all the work."

"Tipton did a great job" Stephen nodded appreciatively, looking over at a painting in the kitchen.

"Thanks, Master Stephen!" Tipton called from the canvas. The elf was polishing the chair in the portrait, much to the occupant (great aunt Sophia)'s amusement.

"Well, the Daily Prophet will come out tomorrow" Tonks continued while whittling away at the plate of cookies. "I'm afraid it will probably be less than complementary, Stephen dear."

Reaching for the teapot, Stephen grimaced. "I'd expect nothing less" he growled.

"So are you still a grimmy like doggy?" Tonks asked with interest.

The wizard looked up and winked, stood and transformed. In place of 'Padfoot' now stood a shaggy black Newfoundland. Where Sirius' animagus was a huge dog, it had been smooth-coated and reminded people of the grim. Stephen's animagus, although also a dog, was smaller in stature (though still quite a large breed as dogs go), with hair as unmanageable as any Potter.

"Oh very good!" Tonks clapped, then reached over to scritch Stephen on his furry head. The dog gave her an annoyed look and transformed back to human.

"Don't pat the dog – he bites" he growled playfully.

Their bantering was interrupted by the tapping of an owl on the window. Rose opened the casement to let in a very important looking owl, which flew over to Harry, holding out its leg.

Harry untied the letter and handed the owl a snack from an ever-ready bowl of treats on the counter. "Hmmm – Gringotts. Did you add me to your will, Sirius?"

'Yes, but under the alias of a 'Harold Green' – long lost friend from my days vacationing before auror school" he smirked.

"Padfoot – I mean Stephen – I don't need any money. And why hasn't Rose got one?" Harry shook his head at his godfather and friend and proceeded to open the letter.

"I know you don't, Cub, but I wanted someone to be there to tell me how everyone reacts to my new and improved will incase Nymph here breaks down" Stephen snickered. "And yes, Rose inherits the bulk, but I'm quite sure Dumbles would have interrupted that owl delivery."

Another owl flew through the still open window and headed for Tonks. "Oooh – here's mine. Have an owl treat you pretty thing". She gave the glaring owl a yummy and opened her letter. "Wow – they don't waste much time – next Monday is your reading."

"Awwww – I wanna go!" Rose whined.

"Me too, Rosebud" Stephen laughed. "We will have to wait and enjoy it through the pensieve."

Next Monday came quickly. Rose never got her invitation, not surprising any of the household, but Stephen set Harry's pensieve from his trunk on the kitchen table, waiting for Tonks and his return. Harry couldn't say he was looking forward to pretending he was a casual long-lost friend of Sirius Black, but he was looking forward to seeing what Sirius' will now said and what people's reactions would be.

Harry was sitting in a conference room at Gringotts, alone except for Tonks (who was pretending not to know Harry) and a rude and impatient looking goblin that had introduced himself as Mr. Hammerclaw. Harry had done some glamour charms on himself so he wouldn't look so 'Potterish' and arouse Dumbledore's suspicions, and was patiently waiting for the rest of the 'grieving' crowd.

Soon people started to trickle in. Dumbledore strode into the room, looking as twinkly and self-important as he did in any other universe. Then came Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, accompanied by a proud and haughty 9 year old Draco. Andromeda Tonks, and Remus followed them in and seated themselves, and a goblin shut the door, signaling all the persons who were going to show were now seated around the table.

"I am Mr. Hammerclaw" the goblin abruptly introduced himself, not waiting for the group to quiet themselves. "The only person missing here is one Harriet Rose Potter. Our letters were returned unopened, so we at Gringotts suspect her mail is being tampered with, and will investigate accordingly. Her share of the Black estate will be added to her vaults."

At this Albus Dumbledore noisily cleared her throat. "As her guardian I will make sure her account is updated and handled accordingly" he twinkled at the goblin.

"Guardian? Since when?" Mr Hammerclaw glared at the supreme mugwhump.

"Well, I'm Harriet Potter's representative here" the wizard nodded sagely.

"No, no you are not" the goblin glared. "You have no authority over the Potter finances in this bank. This will be investigated also." The goblin suddenly jerked in his seat, stood and pointed in fury at the headmaster. "And if I feel another obliviate, or any other of your wizard nonsense touch me from under the table I will have you thrown out of this bank permanently!"

Dumbledore tried not to look sheepish and nodded in agreement as the rest of the room stared at him with various expressions of disgust, disbelief, or amusement.

"Without further ado" Mr. Hammerclaw gave Dumbledore another glare for good measure, "here is the final will of Mr. Sirius Black." He pulled a cover off a large basin that measured a good 20 inches across that was in the middle of the table. A smoky image of Sirius Black appeared above it, lit like some futuristic hologram. The image of the wizard looked around the table in satisfaction, and turned to Mr. Hammerclaw.

"Where is Rose?" the image asked the goblin.

"I assume you mean Harriet Potter, Mr. Black?" the goblin asked. When Sirius nodded, he replied, "Her notifications were returned unopened. We will investigate. It will not interfere with the execution of your final wishes." The goblin shot Dumbledore another hateful look.

"In that case, this is my final will and testament. As you can probably tell by my appearance, this was dictated while I was a prisoner in Azkaban." Sirius gave shuddering breath and continued. "And before I get to the divvying up of my goods, I do want you all to know what really happened. I cannot give a wizard's oath, not having my wand, and I cannot take veritaserum, like was denied me at that joke of a trial. But on my honor and my magic you have condemned an innocent man. If Albus Dumbledore was an honest man "and Sirius turned to give him a look of poison and malice, "he would verify this, but do not expect the truth from that snake."

"Poor man – so delusional" Dumbledore shook his head in carefully crafted pity.

"Pffffffft" Sirius spit at him. "I was never the secret keeper for James and Lily. James and I agreed privately that I was the logical one to be, so we changed it to Peter last minute. We never told Remus because we suspected him of working for You-Know-Who, as the Dark Lord was recruiting so many werewolves at the time." He turned to look at Remus, who was staring at the flickering image with shock and disbelief. "Sorry, Moony. Well, I'd feel more sorry if you had given me any benefit of the doubt and tried to insist on a fair trial."

"When I told the aurors I had 'good as killed them' when they arrested me, I was voicing my guilt for trusting Peter. The rat is a Death Eater, and still very much alive somewhere out there. He's a rat animagus, so he would be tricky to find. When I found Peter and confronted him, it was him that blew away the street and killed all those muggles. He severed his own finger and escaped as a rat." He glared around the room, paying special attention to Remus and Andromeda. "Didn't any of you find it strange that all they found was a cleanly severed finger? They had all the complete bodies of the muggles!!!"

His former friend and aunt both sank into their chairs, obviously starting to question the guilt of the man before them.

"The kicker of all this is Dumbledore knew I was innocent." Sirius turned to glare at the headmaster again, who was beginning to look a bit unnerved. "Not only is the wonderful Albus Dumbledore a master legilimens, James and Lily showed me their will the night before they were killed. In it, officially witnessed by Dumbledore, they put that Peter was their secret keeper, and that their daughter was to go to anyone but the Dursleys. You do know those muggles loathe magic, and are probably abusing the poor girl as we speak…"

Dumbledore hemmed and hawed a bit and finally spoke up. "I'm sure Harriet is fine, Sirius. They are family after all."

"And who gave you the authority to go against James and Lily's final wishes? And why was their will never executed?" Sirius glared at the headmaster with barely contained fury. The whole room was watching the exchange breathlessly.

"Do not worry, Mr. Black" Mr. Hammerclaw interrupted. "This will be added to the things to be investigated."

"Fine" Sirius hunched his shoulders. "Now for the goods. Harold Green" (and he turned to face an amused Harry), I know we haven't seen each other in years, and I have no idea what your feelings are about my incarceration. So I'm going to pretend you always believed my innocence and leave you 5,000 galleons. Drink some firewhisky in my memory."

Harry gave a nod and a thumbs up to the image of Sirius.

"Bellatrix is in jail, but she belongs there. She gets nothing. Lucius and Narcissa," Sirius turned to face the Malfoys, distain evident on their faces. "Sorry – can't swallow your pure-blood crap, and I have no doubt you are a Death Eater, Lucy. Probably you too, Cissy. You don't need anything from me. So I leave you a single galleon so you can't contest the will."

The Malfoys both sniffed and stuck their noses even higher in the air if possible.

"Draco" Sirius turned and looked at the boy, who looked both curious and snobbish at the same time. "I hope you start to think for yourself. I'm leaving you 500 galleons, and hope you stop and think before parroting your parent's bigotry."

The young Malfoy gave a yawn of forced boredom, but Harry could swear he saw a gleam of curiosity spark in the boy's eye.

Sirius turned and faced Remus Lupin, eyes filled with regret and pity. "Moony, you've got to open your eyes man. Stop listening to this fool here" and he gestured at Dumbledore, "and think for yourself. My friend was always loyal – Marauders first, remember? Why didn't you question my supposed guilt? Why didn't you force Dumbles to give me a real trail? Did you ever question Prong's will not being executed?"

Tears ran down the werewolf's face and he shook his head in shame.

"Anyway, I'm leaving you 30,000 galleons. That should be enough so you can invest wisely and get out from under Dumble's thumb and live for yourself. I know you're use to living frugally, so it will support you when jobs are tough." Sirius gave him a final pitying look and turned to Andromeda. "Andie, you were always my favorite Aunt. Please accept 100,000 galleons and welcome back into the Black name – I hereby dis-disown you and your family."

The woman wiped tears on the back of her hand and smiled her thanks. Sirius turned to look at Tonks next and gave her a cheeky grin. "Hey kiddo. I haven't forgotten my little Nymphy. 100,000 for you too." The image smiled as Tonks blew her nose loudly into a handkerchief and turned to Dumbledore, the friendly expression dropping from his face like a shot.

"I hate you" he started in, venom dripping from his voice. "Why did you abandon me? Wasn't my work for your silly Order of the Chicken good enough? Or were you afraid of someone with a backbone raising little Rose?" He glared while Dumbledore fidgeted.

"Now, now my boy. I never abandoned you. I had no idea of your claims of innocence" the old wizard twinkled, holding out placating hands. Albus looked around the room for support and continued "after all, when did I have a chance to speak to you after James and Lily's death?"

"Then why did you send Hagrid to pick up Rose and take her to the Dursleys?" Sirius yelled. "Shouldn't he have taken her to the castle to wait for me? You were the one to witness James' will – the one that stated who the secret keeper was!"

"Now you are wrong there, Sirius. I never _saw_ the will, and I didn't even know they had one" Dumbledore glared back, trying to put Sirius on the defensive.

"Oh, and a pureblood family like the Potters would go into hiding, knowing they are at the top of You-Know-Who's hit list without one?" Sirius turned away from the ancient with contempt and faced Mr. Hammerclaw. "So my orders still stand, my goblin friend. Nothing for Dumbledore and Harriet Rose Potter gets the remaining money, properties and belongings, minus the cost of a thorough investigation into her well-being and the execution of James and Lily Potter's last will and testament. I do not name her my heir so the Black name can die with me. Make sure your investigators are thoroughly shielded against hexes, charms, and other wizarding magic – this _creature_ (and he gestured rudely at Dumbledore) loves to use obliviate and trusting charms. I wish for you to find any living Potter to raise Rose in the magical world – whether it be Britain or overseas. There's got to be someone somewhere still alive that is capable."

Acknowledging the order, Mr. Hammerclaw gave Dumbledore an enigmatic look of his own. Sirius finally turned and looked around the room once more. "You have all disappointed me" he concluded. "I was a very wealthy wizard – it would have been in your best interests to trust me enough to demand a fair trial with veritaserum. But as you decided Dumbles knew best and allowed an innocent man to die in Azkaban, you get what you get and not a knut more. Don't trust this pathetic excuse of a man (gesturing again to Dumbledore) – he's every bit as evil as You-Know-Who, and keep your eyes open for Pettegrew – his animagus is a common gray rat, a bit on the pudgy side."

With that the image of Sirius Black faded back into the bowl, and Mr. Hammerclaw stood up. "That concludes the reading of the last will and testament of Sirius Black. The amounts stipulated will be transferred to your vaults as soon as you sign the paperwork my assistant is bringing in."

Harry sat back and watched in amusement as the room erupted in shouting. "Do you believe him?" and "Cheepskate – how was I to know?" and "Albus, how could you?" echoed and bounced off the walls.

As he had no paperwork to sign, Dumbledore stood with as much dignity as he could muster. He gave Harry a questioning look like he wanted to ask him who he was, but changed his mind and abruptly left the room.

With a sad smile Harry signed his pages of parchment and left to share the memories with Stephen and Rose.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The following weeks had the British magical world in a buzz. First the death of the notorious Sirius Black, and then the exciting last will and testament reading, that accused the famous Albus Dumbledore of tampering with justice.

If that wasn't enough to keep the Daily Prophet flying off the shelves, Harriet Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, was missing from her muggle relative's home. That investigation proved the muggles had raised the child shamefully, living in a broom cupboard, starved and beaten. Their muggle son was sent to live with a relation, and the hateful aunt and uncle were given a trail and sentenced to 10 years in Azkaban themselves.

Although the girl had disappeared only a few months ago, there was no trace of where she could have gone. The veritaserum given to the Dursleys showed she had been locked like an animal into the cupboard, and was simply missing. Someone of a magical nature must have taken her, but it was too long ago to have a readable signature left.

Then, only two weeks after the reading of Sirius Black's will, the goblins announced that they found a man worthy of raising Harriet Potter. Stephen Potter, a distant cousin, and only 41 years old, was found in South Africa. He had been born in Wales and left at age 11, and subsequently orphaned, losing all touch with any British relatives. The photo taken of him in front of Gringotts showed a handsome man, unquestionably a Potter by his looks, who assured the world he simply wanted to give his famous relative a good home and had no need of her wealth.

The goblins 'found' Rose just one day later. It turned out she had been rescued by a faithful house elf and hiding at her ancestral manor. Stephen Potter was swiftly granted full custody of the young hero and moved into Potter manor with her.

The magical world was now keeping eyes open for Peter Pettigrew after a full investigation into the trial of Sirius Black. The Ministry wasn't willing to admit they had done anything wrong, but they were keeping an open mind at least. And their minds were fully slammed open, wide and gaping, when Peter Pettigrew showed up one late summer day. Trussed and tied like a turkey, Author Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office had hauled the rat in – it turns out Pettigrew had been hiding as a family pet for the past eight years. Sirius Black was swiftly given a posthumous pardon.

Dumbledore had hidden his trails pretty well, and what couldn't be covered up was smooth over with buckets of galleons from his vault. But Harry, Stephen and Rose weren't worried – they knew his time was coming soon.

_Author Notes: One more chapter to go with our Rose, then it's time for a Turkey Day break! I really loved writing this universe._


	31. Life With Potters

**Life with Potters – Chapter 31**

Summer ended and Stephen and Harry chose to homeschool Rose, instead of sending her to a local muggle school. She had already passed her first year curriculum from Hogwarts, and the men were extremely impressed with the young witch's strength and intelligence.

Dumbledore tried to stick his nose into the family only once. He sent a letter with imbedded portkey trying to convince Stephen to give the girl up to the mugwhump's custody 'for her own good'. Stephen immediately brought it to Amelia Bones in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Dumbledore was fined 2,000 galleons and told if he attempted anything beyond his school-related duties in relation to the Potters, he would be fired and placed in Azkaban.

The next six months passed pleasantly. Dumbledore did not interfere again with the Potters, and Harry found himself loving the role of big brother/parent. Rose was fun to teach, fun to play with, and every time the girl suffered a nightmare or flashback, Harry found the comforting hugs every bit as healing as she did. Although he wished he could have been rescued as a boy from the Dursleys, it was far more satisfying in his opinion to be the rescuer instead of the rescued.

Stephen Potter after several months finally got to the place where he wasn't shocked when he looked in a mirror. He swiftly adjusted to his new body, his new looks, and his new magical core. Hours of his healing process were spent telling Rose stories of her parents and grandparents, and the two of them talked long with the portraits in the manor to learn of 'their' ancestry.

Rose was finished with her third year spells and potions and learning advanced theory behind the magic. During this time Harry was reading up on soul banishment charms and hexes. Sirius and he decided they could set up a 'meeting' with Quirrell before Rose's year started, and if they got Rose to simply touch the stuttering professor, that would kill Voldemort's body. Harry and Sirius together could entrap and banish the diseased soul for once and all. Their only hesitation was putting Rose through the trauma of having to kill another human being. No matter how evil Voldemort was, they didn't want their girl to have the guilt of taking a life.

It turned out that it wasn't hard to do after all. Stephen was at the Leaky Cauldron late one night before the school year had started and found Quirrell sitting at the bar with a tankard of mead. He started up a conversation and invited the stuttering professor to Potter Manor to meet his famous charge whom Quirrell would have a student next year. Quirrell was only too happy to oblige, thinking he would have a chance to kill Rose and make an easy escape.

Naturally it wasn't how it happened. As Harry entertained their guest, Stephen went upstairs to get Rose. What he actually did was have her drink the bond terminator and then some dreamless sleep, which the trusting girl did without question. Bond severed and safely snoozing, Stephen came back down and the two men petrified Quirrell, removing the turban to verify that Voldemort was indeed on the back of his head.

"_Whooo are you and how dare you?" _Voldemort hissed at Harry. Stephen cast the binding ritual to make sure Voldemort's soul stayed in its host's body and Harry simply smirked.

"Me?" Harry asked innocently. "I'm Harry Potter – Harriet from another universe. And I'm going to kill you." With that Harry grabbed Quirrell and the two men watched as the pathetic man smoked, hissed, screamed and became a powdery pile of ashes, which Zippy gladly swept up. Harry knew that if his touch wouldn't take out Quirrell they could always bring the sleeping Rose downstairs and use her without traumatizing her. The three of them shared some congratulatory butterbeers.

The next morning Rose awoke to find her scar was gone and her head did not hurt anymore. Godfather and Harry gave her the wonderful news that her parent's killer was gone for good and the magical world was safe. Stephen did some discreet questioning around town to learn that everyone with the dark mark was indeed completely free from it, and Dumbledore was absolutely dying of curiosity with what could have happened to Tom Riddle. And where his Defense teacher had disappeared to.

The summer flew by faster than Harry wanted. Harry had never stuck around after removing a Voldemort before, but Rose was so dear to him he didn't want to leave. He knew he had to leave soon, but having a sister, who was more of a daughter at this point, had awoken the longings he had buried long ago. He wanted a family. Harry wanted a normal life, with companionship and children. Harry, even in the middle of a family, deeply craved one of his own.

September came and both Harry and Stephen took their young charge to the Hogwarts Express, new owl, trunk and supplies in hand. She tearfully hugged the two men and promised to write, and without saying anything, knew she was saying a final goodbye to Harry, her dear brother.

"Will I ever see you again, Harry?" she cried, hugging him tightly. "I"ll miss you so much!"

He smiled gently, returning the hug and patting her back. "Who knows, Rose. I'll miss you so much too. But you know what I have to do – I can't rest until my Voldemort is gone."

Many kisses and hugs later, and a heart broken, but excited Rose stepped onto the train and rode off to her future.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So where are you heading to now?" Stephen asked Harry when he came down the stairs the next day, trunk in his pocket.

"I never know, Padfoot" he smiled at the man. Stephen grinned at the use of his old nick-name.

"I'll miss you, cub. I can never pay back what you did for Rosebud and I." Tears were unashamedly running down the man's face.

"Yes you can" Harry grinned, clapping him on the back. "Raise Rose to be the best witch in the world. Don't worry about Dumbles – he's about to have an unfortunate accident.

One last goodbye to his parents and Tipton crowded into a portrait in the room, and a last hug for his Godfather, and Harry grabbed his amulet and disappeared. He hoped he could visit Rose and Stephen again in the future, but one never knew. But before his next world, he had a visit to make to a certain headmaster…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Petunia Dursley woke up, back aching from the uncomfortable 'bed' of dirty straw. She glared at her snoring husband and looked up at the single drafty barred window on the wall of their prison.

How long had they been in here? She was still stunned over their sentence of ten years just for trying to knock the magic out of that useless little freak they were saddled with. It was so unfair. How long had it been – months, years? Time had no meaning, with nothing to see out the tiny window but endless sea. Every time those awful ghost things came, Vernon would freak out. They didn't seem to affect her – one of the guards had explained they suck all your happy emotions out of you. Petunia could not remember a time in her life she had been happy, so perhaps she had nothing to feed them with.

Vernon rolled over and gave an earth-jarring snore. He was mostly insane now, which was just as well in her opinion. It was his fault they were in jail – he was the one who actually beat and locked up the freak. Granted, Petunia never tried to stop him, but she hadn't laid a finger on the brat. At least Vernon was finally losing some weight.

Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head and was amazed to see one of her Precious Moments figurines on the floor of their cell. It was named 'Heaven Sent' – a porcelain girl with darker hair, tear running down her sweet cheek and holding a letter from God. But somehow it looked different from when it sat in her curio cabinet a lifetime ago. Petunia blinked to look at it closer.

It _was_ different. Where her figurine had auburn hair, this one had a deep gray – the Precious Moment equivalent of black, Petunia supposed. And where they usually had huge black eyes, this one had decidedly green eyes. The boney woman drew back with a start – this nick-knack reminded her of her brat niece. And what did that letter in its hands say? What was supposed to be a sweet letter from God now read "Please find a family to love me." Petunia swore it was staring right at her.

She reached out to turn it around – she didn't have the heart to break something so expensive. But no matter how hard she reached, the statue was always just beyond her fingertips. Now Petunia was getting angry. She got up to walk over and turn it around, but no matter where she went in the cell the stupid figurine was just beyond her reach, facing her and staring at her with the sad, soulful eyes.

"Vernon" she hissed, poking her husband in the ribs.

"Whaaa – what do you want, Pet?" he sat up bleary eyed and groggy.

"That" Petunia gestured angrily at the crying statue. "Bring it to me."

"What?" Vernon looked and looked where his wife had pointed, but couldn't see anything to bring.

With a screech of rage she pulled off a shoe and threw it at the figurine, but it missed by a mile. "Do you mean to tell me you can't see it?" she yelled at her husband.

Vernon snorted. "I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when they bring the food."

Petunia watched the crying girl. The crying girl watched back. Heaven Sent indeed. The bitter and unhappy woman knew it didn't come from _there_. But where ever it came from, it stayed the rest of her miserable unhappy life.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Albus Dumbledore watched the hysterical woman throw a shoe at him. He didn't know what was worse – not being able to flinch or blink or even feel, or the fact he was now a girl figurine. A girl – how undignified.

Years came and went and the woman in the cell grew more and more insane. Vernon passed on within months of entering Azkaban, but Petunia seemed not to be affected by the dementors. _'I'll have to look into why,' _the former headmaster pondered. Oh wait – that's right. He couldn't' look into anything.

It was a game they played constantly during the woman's waking hours. She would try to smash the statue – she tried throwing things at it, sneaking up on it, and even ignoring it. Albus would try to communicate – if only the stupid muggle was a legilimens! But it was no use. As much as they hated each other, they were stuck together. And as lonely as they both were, they were forever apart. It was quite like the sad childhood little Rose had suffered under the Dursley care.

And I promise Harry didn't lose a moment's sleep over sending Albus to that fate, or any of the other fates in any of his travels. Sometimes revenge really does taste sweet.

_Author Notes: And so we say good bye to dear little Rose, who will now live happily ever after. Hopefully I'm showing a progression in Harry's personality - he is growing deeper, stronger, more sensitive to others, yet at the same time, ruthless to his enemies. You can only kill so many Voldemorts before it ceases to bother you. Next chapters will take a while - I need to finish a few things before they are ready to post._


	32. Have You Missed Me?

**Have you Missed Me? - Chapter 32**

Back in Harry's 'real' world, things were going badly for the light. Actually, with Dumbledore in charge, light was a relative term. Now that Harry had been gone over four months in his world, Molly cried, Remus indulged in guilt trips, and Albus fumed, all non-stop. The Ministry had searched for Harry for weeks. The Order searched for months. Voldemort ignored the matter and proceeded to keep on murdering muggles and muggle-borns. The magical world was swiftly falling into chaos.

Ginny was getting delusional – despairing of ever marrying the rich and famous Boy-Who-Lived. Molly started to lose it from worry about her family and guilt over pushing Harry away. Ron didn't miss Harry at all, but missed the hope that his 'mate' would take care of Voldemort. Few truly and honestly missed Harry for the person he was. Fewer still made the connection – when the world rejected Harry, they brought the violence upon themselves, as if a floodgate of blood had opened. Karma can be a harsh mistress.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was late at night, the stars twinkling in the cold winter night. Albus Dumbledore was hunched over his desk, quill fallen from loose fingers as he placed trembling hands over his eyes. What was going on?

"What now, _headmaster_?" The sarcastic voice of past headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black mocked from his canvas. "Are you developing a conscious or something even more extraordinary?"

Dumbledore weakly shook his head. What _was_ happening to him? An attack from Tom, Perhaps? Last month it was constant nightmares and visions tormenting him. It was always the same – he was a Malfoy house elf, Narcissa and Draco were 'punishing' him non-stop. More like trying to kill him slowly. And now this.

He leaned back wearily in his chair and summoned a house-elf for a cup of tea and some biscuits. Sighing he rubbed his eyes again. Searching his magical core, he could find no curses, hexes or intrusions. He took extra pains in occluding now. But still these disturbing images came frequently, and kept him cranky and irritable.

This latest attack had him always in the same place – a filthy cell in Azkaban, staring non stop at Petunia Dursley, of all people. He appeared to be petrified, and some how smaller. All he was ever doing in these visions was watching her as she screamed non-stop and attempted to throw things at him. It was totally bizarre.

The tea arrived and Albus sipped on it gratefully. He picked up the quill and returned it to the inkwell, waving his hand to removed the spills and splatters. Gazing at the report, he shook his head again. The Bones, the Washburnes, the Smythes… good wizarding families soundly for the light, wiped out to the person this past week. How could he stop Riddle and get his reputation boosted? How much more could the magical world take?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ronald Weasley had enjoyed his first couple of weeks back at Hogwarts. No Harry to steal all the attention and girls. Everyone running up to him, Ron, and treating him like he was somebody important - asking him if there was any news. Yes, the first couple of weeks had been good.

It was different now. Winter had come in both Scotland and his heart. The angry red jealousy he had felt for Harry slowly ebbed to apathy, then fear, then concern of a fashion. People were talking – when he boasted a bit too much and a bit too loud folks started looking at _him_ like he should take care of You-Know-Who. Then ugly rumors started behind his back that maybe _he_ had caused Harry's disappearance, with his temper and envy getting the better of him.

He was lying on his bed, watching the shadows play across the canopy above. Him, Ron Weasley take down You-Know-Who? He might be handsome, strong and virile, but he couldn't even say the wizard's name. He might have been less than kind when speaking about Harry's ability, but he had to admit now – his former best friend was a talented dueler and skilled in some things. More than he was.

Hermione and he had broken up a couple weeks ago. They finally admitted they liked to fight more than kiss, and that was easier and less painful to do as just friends. He rolls onto his stomach and glanced at the notebook on his nightstand. Time to work – Hermione and he were trying to figure out how to help the order.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The bushy haired witch huffed impatiently as she glanced at her watch. Where was Ron? He was so irresponsible – Weasley was supposed to meet her in the library over 21 minutes ago.

Listlessly she thumbed through the dusty book in front of her. Research once gave her such a thrill – the excitement of the search, the finding of a little-known fact, the showing the information to her admirers. _'What admirers, girl?' _she thought bitterly, _'the only people who could ever sincerely stand you are Harry and Ron. Harry's gone and Ron only tolerates you.'_

'_It's my fault,' _a slow tear crept down her cheek. _'Harry was one of your only true friends, and you nagged him half to death, betrayed him, and turned him down the one time he asked you to be there. You can't blame him for taking off.' _

Why had it been more important to obey the headmaster, watching Harry, reporting on him, and keeping him distant? She really needed friends – she missed him so deeply. The endless talks about quidditch, the mock-refusals to study, the late-night outings to the kitchens… it seemed like years ago. She missed it so desperately.

Hermione turned another brittle page, looking for something that the order could use against Voldemort. Was there anything? If the Headmaster was correct, the only way to rid the world of the monster was Harry, and Harry was gone.

Turn another page, futilely search for the one spell that can make a difference. Turn another page. It didn't seem to do any good.

If only she could apologize to him. He didn't have to forgive her - she couldn't forgive herself. But she deeply wished he could realize she really, truly was sorry.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Severus Snape woke and smiled. A frightful sight to the few who had seen it. After a couple of exchanged letters with Potter, somehow the boy got his family house elf to key him into the Potter wards. With Harry's permission he and the Weasley twins, of all people, were safe and in hiding.

The professor rolled over and faced the sunny window overlooking a pristine lake covered with ice and snow. The house was warm and comfortable. And best of all, it was totally secure from both Voldemort and Dumbledore. The wards were so strong that not even a summons through the dark mark could affect him. He was safe for the first time in his life.

Stretching and yawning, he left the comfortable bed and padded across the room to the shower. He could faintly make out the noise of the twins running down the hall, and he gave another smirk. Who knew the two troublemakers were so intelligent?

Zippy brought him his favorite breakfast of Scottish oats with treacle and strong black coffee. He thanked the elf gratefully. Snape was not a man to easily forget an insult, but he was certainly a man to never forget a favor. Although at first it grated on him to have to hide in James Potter's home, he occulded the anger he still felt toward the man and focused on their current goal of ridding the world of Voldemort. When the last of the food was gone, he stretched again before heading down to the manor's potions lab.

"What's up, professor!" Fred grinned at him. "Sleep well?"

Snape gave him a half-hearted glare. Meanness really wasn't in him anymore. "How did the potions do through the night?" he half growled.

George gestured to the first caldron. "Sally did wonders with watching the werewolf cure – we might have it this time."

Snape peered into the pot and nodded. The color and scent was promising.

The next cauldron's lid was lifted by Fred. "I'm not sure about this one, professor. It's not seeming, well, _caustic_ enough to attack the Potter DNA in Voldemort's body. And there are still the issues of how to get it on Voldy and not Harry if it's a battle with the two of them."

The potions professor examined the bubbling mixture. Yes, the boy was right. It wasn't correct. "Well," he growled, "let's try again with less borax this time."

"Right-o, boss!" the boys chirped in unison. Were they always in such a good mood? But then he was positively giddy compared to what he used to be. The wards were keeping him from the evil influences of _both_ his masters.

"Any word from Harry?" George asked with interest.

Snape shook his head. "Not since a couple weeks ago. I think he's killed over a dozen Voldemorts now, but not ready for ours."

Fred and George shook their heads in wonder. They were glad Harry wasn't experiencing the horror that magical Britain was, but they didn't envy him. He had to be getting confused at this point.

"Back to work, Mr. Weasley and Weasley," Severus clapped his hands. The twins came to attention and started right in. The trio was not going to waste the time quaking in fear while Harry worked his way back. They were doing all they could to help from the potions end.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"My son! I want my son!" Molly Weasley sobbed from her bed in St. Mungos. The plump matron had suffered a nervous breakdown at the start of the school year. The time alone in the Burrow after everyone went to Hogwarts for the semester gave her too much time to think, too much time to feel the crushing guilt of her actions.

"Poor thing" a mediwitch whispered to another in the hallway. "Thinks she's Harry Potters mum, she does."

Her co-worker snickered a bit callously. How many witches, unable to stand the terror and fear of life in wartime magical London, reverted to one of Harry Potter's girlfriends or mothers? There were enough of them that the witches had unofficially dubbed the disease 'Potteritus'.

"Harrrrry!" the woman keened from her bed, tears and snot running down her face. "I'm sorry, luv," she sobbed more quietly. "I failed you. I understand that now. I failed you."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Who are you writing to, Gin?" A blond haired girl looked up sympathetically from her bed at Ginny, where the red-haired girl was frantically scribbling a letter, ignoring the splattering of her quill on her sheets.

"None of your business, witch!" she snarled in return. Now where was she?

_Dearest Harry,_

_Why haven't you written? I don't think I'm writing too much – this is only letter 153 since you disappeared? And where did you go? I really need you to answer my last 152 letters. _

_I mean really! All I ask is for a bit of courtesy! You owe me, boy! I've been keeping myself from other guys (ever since Dean) for you. I know we are meant to be together! You can't_ _hide it anymore. Don't think I didn't notice you smile every time you noticed me. You don't do that for Pansy. _

_We were made for each other! You need a wife who will know how to handle social situations, take care of your estate, and make you look good. Let's face it – I'm the most attractive witch at Hogwarts. So hurry up and tell me what colors you want for our wedding, and give me the dimensions of Potter Manor if you've seen it – I need to plan how I'll decorate for the event._

_I need a favor out of you. I'm sure it won't be a problem, but I've run up quite a tab at Honeydukes – could you be a dear and take care of it for me? It's rather your fault – I wouldn't need chocolate if you were here…_

_Oh, and darling, if you have time? Could you come back and tend to our pesky Voldemort problem? He's really getting on my nerves. When we are married I won't be able to go shopping without an auror escort if you don't hurry up and do something about him._

_Looking forward to our day,_

_Your Gin_

Ginny's left eye twitched a few times as she used her wand to dry her parchment. Reaching into an ever handy box of chocolates she pulled out a few caramel mallow whipps and shoved them in her mouth in a most unattractive way. Chewing them down, she folded the letter and made her way to the owlery – maybe this one wouldn't come back.

"Poor thing," the blond whispered to her dorm mates when Ginny left. "She writes her mum at St Mungos every day. I can't imagine what she is going through."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry was sitting in the graveyard at the Riddle estate. The smoldering remains of this world's Voldemort were lying on the ground a few yards away. His back leaning heavily against the cool marble, he caught his breath while shaking his head. This Dark Lord was pretty tough – his death eaters were actually helping their boss. This world's Harry was already dead, killed by the Dursleys, so it was a solo effort.

"Harry my friend! Are you all right?" Severus Snape came around the small group of trees looking for him. He spied the smoking corpse on the ground and rushed over. "Harry? HARRY!" Tears poured down the potion master's cheeks as the dark-eyed man sobbed in heart-wrenching grief.

"Over here, Sev. That's Voldemort." Harry rolled his eyes. He would never get used to this universe.

Snape's head jerked up as he looked for Harry with desperate hope. Finding him he ran over, smiling broadly. "I'm so proud of you, Harry! And I know James is smiling down on you too!" He reached down and actually picked the Boy-Who-Lived up off his feet, hugging him firmly. Gah. And the man wondered why Harry showered so often.

"I know it's a bit sudden, but here – if you would do me the honors?" Snape handed him an official looking parchment. Harry glanced over it, and realized with horror it was an adoption certificate. Severus Snape wanted to be his dad.

"Um, I have to think this over," he blurted out in a panic. Stepping away, he took one more glance at the potion master's smiling and supportive face. No, no this just wasn't right. Ever. He apparated to Potter Manor which would keep the overly nice man away.

Zippy greeted him in the foyer. "Did you have a nice day, Harry?"

"Sure" the young wizard groaned. "Killed Voldy, got hugged by Snape. What else could go wrong?"

"This," the elf replied simply. "This school owl decided to deliver this from your own universe."

"Really?" Harry asked with excitement. "From my place? Is it from _my_ Snape? I don't' get many letters from home, but people _have_ to be writing me!"

"I don't read your mail!" Zippy sniffed, affronted. "I don't know why some get through and others don't. Perhaps fate herself chooses."

Harry smiled at his friend and took the letter, knowing that Zippy had already checked it for traps, hexes, and portkeys. He glanced over it once, and his face froze in fear. Looking up at Zippy, he collapsed into a nearby chair and gasped out "Zippy – a butterbeer, please!"

With a snap of his fingers Zippy had the asked-for beverage and placed it into Harry's shaking hand. "What is it, Harry? What is wrong? Is everyone all right?"

Wordlessly Harry handed him letter number 153 from Ginny Weasley. Zippy read it, stared at the wizard, and burst out laughing. "My – she is one graphorn part short of a pepper-up, isn't she? Should I prepare the ballroom for your upcoming nuptials? Or perhaps a garden wedding would be more to you liking?"

The elf was fast – Harry had to give him that much, as Zippy easily dodged the conjured pie, giggling as only an elf can giggle. But when the mock fight was over with, the wizard sunk back in his chair, picked up the letter and frowned at it. "Is she really this crazy, or is she trying to scare me into coming back and checking on her?"

Zippy patted Harry on the arm. "I'll go see, Harry. I'll be right back." And with a soft 'pop', the elf was gone.

"Oh yeah!" Harry muttered. "I forgot he can travel dimensions!" He looked at the letter again in frustration. _'I owe you? I smiled at you when I noticed you? Good grief - I smile at everyone I know!' _Green eyes narrowed in anger. _'Like I need an arm-candy social director! Oh and that's rich – pay off my Honeydukes tab???' _

Another soft pop and Zippy reappeared, with a resigned look on his elfin face.

"That didn't take long!" Harry exclaimed.

The elf gave him a pained look. "I was gone four days in that world, Harry. Time is different in each universe." He sat down and summoned a butterbeer of his own, downing it in two long gulps.

"That bad?" Harry asked hesitantly, the color draining from his face. He clenched the arm of his chair to keep his hands from trembling.

"Yes, its bad back home, Harry," Zippy finally said. Voldemort is killing without reserve, and your ministry as all but collapsed. People are afraid to leave their homes. It is early December there – you have been gone four months."

Harry sat upright, tense and riveted, trying to picture the chaos his leaving caused.

"Now don't go getting in a guilt trip, Harry," the elf scolded, shaking a finger at him. "You had to leave – if you didn't, Dumbledore or Voldemort would have killed you, or kept you sequestered away. You are learning and practicing – you will make things right when you are ready."

"I suppose you are right, Zippy" he sighed. "Anyone I know been hurt?"

"The Bones are all gone," the elf replied sadly. "Weasleys don't know it, but Voldemort killed Percy yesterday. They will find out soon."

"Whoa" Harry shook his head. If only he could be ready now. Percy was a prat, but his loss would still devastate the family. And the Bones? Susan? Amelia? That was such a profound loss, it was hard to put words to it.

"Mrs. Weasley is in St. Mungos. I spoke with her for a while, and I think I got through. She is actually suffering hugely from guilt over how she treated you, and is finally questioning the wisdom of Albus Dumbledore." Zippy summoned another butterbeer, and sipped on this one slowly. "Ginevra Weasley, I'm afraid to say, is a total whackjob. She is delusional, psychotic, and all around unpleasant to be around." The elf shook his head sadly. "She is convinced that you are the husband for her, mostly based on your wealth and status. She's living in a dream world of designer dresses, expensive jewelry and impressive parties. You will have your hands full when you see her next."

Harry grabbed his head with both hands and groaned. "Where did she get the impression we were going to be married? We never even went out!"

Zippy shrugged, idly picking the label off the butterbeer bottle with his thumb nail. "You didn't do anything, Harry. She is quite off her rocker. One niffler short of a pack. There's a hole in her quiver. One quill short of a stationary set. And her complexion is quite the fright – she must be really packing away the chocolates. Here is the balance she owes Honeydukes – I took the liberty of popping in after hours to check their paperwork." He handed a small scrap of parchment over to Harry, who took it with trembling hands.

"Good grief!" Harry yipped, reading the total owed. He looked at Zippy with a pained expression and summoned a second butterbeer for himself. "I can't pay this. I don't want to encourage her! But in the same respect, it's not a strain on my finances in any stretch of the imagination! I don't want Mr. Weasley to have to pay this!"

"I will bring her letter back to the Hogwart's owlery and have it returned to her. She will never know it had been delivered and read." Zippy drained the last of the beer, and summoned a cup of coffee. Butterbeer, though not alcoholic to wizards, was quite potent to house-elves. To his amusement, they seemed to affect Harry ever since his time as an elf himself.

"That sounds good," Harry sighed. "Can we pay the Honeydukes bill, and convince the storeowner to say Dean paid it?" To think he, Harry Potter, was interested in her at one point. But it hadn't been Ginny that caught his attention, but what Ginny might have been. If she had outgrown her initial infatuation over the famous Boy-Who-Lived, and had matured into a normal teen, she'd be something worth approaching. But now – eeeeew!"

"Or Malfoy," Zippy smirked with an evil grin. "We could say it was him and send her in his direction!"

Elf and wizard smiled together. This would work. Perhaps Draco's only crime was being a spoiled and pampered brat, and that much punishment was too extreme. But hey – who ever said life was fair?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Author Notes: I had some requests for 'nice Snapes', so this is all I'm going to write on that one. Sorry – I can't do it any deeper or with any sense of believability. There are tons of 'Snape mentors Harry' stories out there that are far better than what I can come up with. He is an interesting character – we all want him to be a good guy, but when you actually look at some of the stuff he pulls on Harry and his friends, and the unspeakable things he must do as a double agent, it really is hard to make him into a nice person. I think the stories that have him under a Dumbledore hex make the most sense. Then I can believe that a headmaster would hire someone that poisonous to be a teacher._


	33. Life In Edo, Japan

**Life in Edo, Japan – Chapter 33**

Harry found his thoughts drifting to Ginny time and time again while jumping world to world. She was the wild-card in all his travels to date – sometimes evil, sometimes good, most of the time selfish and shallow. Despite the infamous letter 153, Harry felt a strong attraction for the girl, and a longing started to grow deep in his bosom. If only he could find the _right_ Ginny. One that had her spirit and fire, but not her greed. A Ginny with the backbone and impishness, but morality too. A Ginny he could start his own family with. Just not _that_ one.

Harry Potter visited a couple of worlds and finished off their Voldemorts in quick succession. The Riddles were progressively getting tougher, and he was now finding he had to use everything he had learned in his travels. In one world he perfected his occlemency, and in another learned some nifty dueling tricks. He could see where most of the Harrys were going to be a blur in his memory soon. Well, the current Voldy was dead and soulless so he was off to his next adventure.

The world slowly stopped spinning and Harry slowly opened his eyes. He found himself crouched down behind some small decorative trees – Japanese maples if he recalled his landscaping, with Hedwig on his shoulder. Cautiously the young man peeked around the trunk of the poofy tree and quirked an eyebrow at the scene before him. Zippy was next to him.

"Is this Japan???"he mused to himself. The garden was carefully manicured, white marble chip paths meandering over and by a babbling stream. The garden was a decent size, enclosed by a tall wooden fence for privacy. Small areas dotting the vista held rustic statues, or pleasantly shaped boulders, or the occasional bench. Sitting on one of these benches in quiet meditation was a young man.

Harry scrutinized the man carefully. He was muscular, toned, and dressed in traditional Japanese garb. A long katana was strapped to his waist, and his raven-black hair was tied up in a pony tail. Dragon tattoos decorated both forearms, and the man radiated peace and power in a strangely acceptable combination.

"No, it's Hogsmeade" Zippy laughed dryly. "Welcome to reality 1,709." The elf winked at Harry, muttered "have fun," and popped away.

Once Zippy was gone, Harry decided to make his presence known. He stood and approached the man using the path so he would not be seen as a threat or sneaking around.

Harry noted the man had his hand at all times near the hilt of his sword. Harry kept his own hands clearly in sight and empty. He nodded at the stranger and when green eyes met his own, he realized with a start he was greeting an oriental version of himself. This was Hogsmeade?

"Harry Potter?" he softly asked the calm-looking man.

"I was once known by that name." He slowly blinked his emerald eyes and returned the scrutiny. "I now go by Burakku Masahiko. Are you polyjuiced and bring violence to this place of peace?"

"Errrr – no. I'm Harry too. Just another dimension." Harry stared at his twin. He realized that 'Burakku' did not have the almond eyes nor skin coloring of the oriental race. In fact, there was really nothing oriental about his twin but his clothing and accessories. In fact, the way Harry Potter was dressed reminded him of the anime fanboys he saw on the telly through the grill in the cupboard door. Vernon had watched a documentary on the growing phenomenon of rabid teens who were so crazy about Japanese animation they would travel to conventions and dress like their favorite characters.

"Join me," Burakku replied, moving slightly to one side of the bench. Harry swallowed a sigh and sat down. Hedwig settled on his shoulder and preened his messy hair to comfort him.

Harry swiftly grew tired of listening to the stream and birds and broke the silence. "What year is it?"

"It is 1997, Harry-san" was the calm reply. "You are presently at my home in Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade" Harry laughed gently. "I thought I had landed in Japan!" 'Burakku' looked pleased at the comment.

"I can see where you would get that impression, Harry-san" he nodded sagely. "I was once like you – angry, confused and alone. Then after my beloved Godfather passed through the veil I discovered his true ancestry and embraced it in his memory and honor. Harry Potter is dead. Burakku Masahiko is whole and at peace and able to fight the evil that dishonors our world." He smiled briefly "you may call me Masahiko, Harry-san. Tell me your story."

'Harry-san' swallowed some bile. He wasn't angry, confused and alone. OK – he was alone, and maybe he was angry and confused a few months and a couple worlds ago, but who could blame him? With a strained smile he lightly went over the highlights of his exciting life, leaving out choice bits like the Bond Terminator Potion and his animagus form - best not to bring those up until he knew how this world worked.

"So you come to help against the Eta Tom Riddle? By removing him we will restore honor to the Takeda Clan." Masahiko clapped his hands and a lovely vision of a lady in ceremonial kimono shuffled down the rocky path. "Come join us for the tea ceremony."

Harry gaped at the woman. At first he was impressed by her fancy robe, intricate hair and stark make-up. Then he was shocked to notice the carefully coifed hair was Weasley red in color. "Ginny???" he gasped, and the girl looked up from her chaste examination of the ground and flinched.

"Harry? _Harry?_" She flung her gaze back and forth between the two young men in disbelief.

"Relax, Akako. I am fine. This is Harry from another dimension." Masahiko smiled with an expression that was meant to be supportive and calming, but actually came off as rather condescending.

"Akako?" Harry asked, biting back a giggle. He couldn't wait to get her alone and talk to her – she didn't seem like the previous Ginnys he had met. She was blushing Weasley red through her white pancake make-up, and wasn't gazing at Masahiko or him with insipid cow-eyes. Perhaps this was fate's revenge for her being such a groupie-wannabe in his world.

"Er, well, yah" she swiftly regained her composure and continued to examine the ground at her feet. "Akako is Japanese for red." She turned and led the two further down the path to a traditional grass 'hut'. They bent over low and entered, after Masahiko made a big show of leaving his katana outside and gave Harry a pointed look as he removed his shoes, so Harry did likewise as he gestured to his annoyed owl to go and wait on one the trees in the garden. The bird flew off in a huff.

'_I sure hope he doesn't expect me to leave my wand.' _Harry thought scornfully. Masahiko gestured to a flat cushion and The-Boy-Who-Lived sat down and watched the Fanboy-Who-Annoyed pointedly. Nothing happened, as Masahiko looked at him expectedly. Ginny/Akako cleared her throat softly and gestured with a subtle jerk of her head toward a small scroll in an alcove.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Errrr, nice scroll-thingy?" he asked hesitantly. Ginny looked relieved.

"Ahhh!" Masahiko brightened immediately. "You admire my Honrai mu Ichibutsu! Doesn't it reflect the season so perfectly?"

"Errrr – yah! Real season-y!" Harry muttered, scratching his head in confusion. He caught Ginny choking back a laugh behind Masahiko's back. Was this prat for real? He had thought Harold was bad at first, but he'd take the ponce over this prat any day. And Harold had grown on him. Perhaps with time Masahiko would too, though he wasn't going to place any bets on it.

"Let me honor you and fetch the kaiseki myself" Masahiko beamed. Harry watched in astonishment as his fanboy twin bowed his way out backwards from the small hut and he looked at Ginny in confusion.

"Gin – what is up?" Harry stammered with a touch of anger born of embarassment.

She smiled gently with a hint of sorrow, and whispered quickly. "Harry – play along. I'll talk to you tonight. Right now he is 'honoring' you with a formal tea ceremony. Thank him for the invitation. Keep conversation light, impersonal, brief, and about the food and surroundings only. Follow his lead. Don't ask what you are eating – it's safe and it's great tasting once you get used to it. The sake is strong if you aren't used to drinking – try not to choke. Act refreshed and tranquil." They heard steps outside in the gravel path, and Ginny swiftly retreated back to a corner of the small hut, head bent in submission. Harry gaped at her but decided to shut his mouth and look 'tranquil' like she had coached.

The light meal would have been more enjoyable if Harry knew what he was eating. Every bite was an adventure into the unknown – new textures, smells and tastes. Nothing looked familiar in the least. He felt wildly uncomfortable in the formal setting, not understanding what Masahiko was expecting out of him one moment to the next. And when his host started whipping some hot green drink into a froth and called it 'tea', and expected him to share the same bowl/cup with him, Harry had all he could do not to run out the door and scream for Zippy to rescue him.

If Masahiko had been truly Japanese, Harry would not have been so angry and confused. It didn't help that he could see Ginny's amusement and embarrassment so clearly under her stylized cosmetics. Harry had the distinct feeling that a true Japanese person would not be flattered as much as insulted by his twin's mimicry of the culture.

After an unbearably long time of 'listening to the sounds of the season', Masahiko finally led Harry into the house. After removing his shoes yet again, much to his annoyance, he was shown to a sparsely furnished room with paper screen walls, and a mattress on the floor as thick as one of Ron's reports – and one written without Hermione's help at that. He sat down on the floor in bewilderment, wondering what was expected of him. After a trip down the empty hall to wash up for the night, Harry returned to his room, slid the door panel shut and decided to attempt sleep.

Harry was just on the verge of nodding off when he heard a light tap on the door, and the soft sound the panel being slid open. He grabbed his wand, but a whispered _'lumos'_ softly lit the area and revealed the visitor as Ginny – minus the eastern garb and regalia. Her long hair was tied back in a casual ponytail and she wore simple muggle jeans and sweat shirt, much to Harry's relief.

"Ginny!" Harry whispered. "Or should I say Akako?" he finished with more than a touch of sarcasm. He felt almost frightened, not sure if she was going to jump on him and demand the keys to Potter Manor, or start shoveling chocolates in her mouth.

She blushed and looked down for a moment, but looked up with a grin. "Jealous? Or did you marry the Ginny in your world?" She walked over and sat on the end of his mattress and looked at the shock and nausea in his face with amusement. "By the look on your face I'd say not."

"But, but…" Harry sputtered out loud, and quickly muted his voice. "You're only 15, girl!"

She threw her head back and laughed loudly. Seeing the look of concern on Harry's face she giggled and said "hey – don't worry. I slipped the prat some dreamless sleep in his sake. He's out for the night. And I'm 17. How old are you?"

Harry frowned. "I'm 16 I guess – it's sort of hard to tell with dimension hopping like this. When I left my world I was, and only a few months passed as far as I know... But if it is '97, then I've moved forward in time as well..." Dimensional hopping sure was rough on the brain cells.

"Yes, that's the year. Let me catch you up then, and you can tell me what your universe is like" she answered gently, leaning back on her elbows. Harry pointedly tried not to look at her reclining on his 'bed' like that – she sure was attractive, and apparently married. And she radiated a far more appealing attitude than the Ginny from his world, too. No hero worship cow-eyed lip licking greed came from this woman. "Anyway, welcome to Japan, Edo period. At least in my husband's pathetic fantasies" she sighed. "Did you lose Sirius in the Department of Mysteries a year ago?"

He nodded in affirmation. Wait - married? At 17?

"My Harry just went to pieces. He refused to go home to the Dursleys, and threatened the headmaster. Evidently our esteemed leader of the Order of the Phoenix decided to drop a bombshell of a prophecy on him the very night Sirius was pushed through the veil. Harry couldn't deal with it and said in no uncertain terms that if Dumbledore wanted him to be a good little weapon, he'd either do it his way or he'd run off to Australia or whatever." Ginny picked absentmindedly at the edge of the sleeping pad. "It seems that Harry had enough inheritance from his parents to back the threat up. Dumbledore cowed and let him stay at the Burrow. We started seeing each other."

"Wow" Harry murmured. "Dumbledork dropped the prophecy on me that night too, but I went back to Privet Drive. I rebelled from there."

Ginny held Harry's gaze for a moment and dropped her eyes. "Well, Harry was sort of coping until the reading of Sirius' will. He inherited the bulk of the estate, and when he checked out the Black vault, he found that 'the ancient and noble house of Black is distantly related to the Japanese clan of Takeda, who as far as the muggles are concerned, died out in the 1500s. In reality the wizards of the clan went underground."

"Are you telling me Sirius, Bella and Narcissa are Japanese? Tonks? Hellloooo?" Harry sputtered, shaking his head. "I mean blue eyes, curly hair, pale white skin?"

Ginny threw her head back and roared with laughter. Perhaps a bit unfeminine, but adorable in Harry's opinion. He had to stop this thinking – she was a married woman. And she was Ginny Weasley, for crying out loud.

"Several hundred years ago a witch of the Takeda clan married a Black and came back with him to England. The Blacks are about as Japanese as the Potters, dear." She sighed and rolled onto her stomach.

Harry pointedly looked away – he was feeling attraction for her more and more each minute, and he thought she was every bit as cute 'sunny-side down'. Conflicting emotions raced though his head. Every time he found himself agreeing with something she said, or enjoying the shine of the moonlight on hr hair, he'd remember letter 153, or think about how many of the Ginnys he had met in his travels that were only interested in his bank vault and titles. But this Ginny seemed grounded, real, and desirable. And _married._

"Anyway," Ginny continued, "my Harry just went crazy. Renamed himself Burakku Masahiko. Burakku is Japanese for black. They use the last name first over there. Our beloved headmaster," and the sarcasm just dripped from her voice, "decided that it was all harmless and to play along. He even convinced my parents to betroth me to him 'for the greater good'." A single tear dripped down her cheek. "I loved Harry. Oh, when I was a child I had the worst crush on the famous hero, and as a young teen I was really attracted to his popularity. But I really loved Harry when I grew up. I did not figure on becoming Japanese."

"How _did_ that happen?" Harry gaped.

"The headmaster married us in his office one evening when we'd had a bit much to drink after my OWLS" Ginny rolled her eyes. "I really want that man dead." She turned her eyes back to Harry who was gazing back with sympathy. "Harry, or should I say Masahiko, as he insisted at that point, bought this house and had Dobby turn it into 'Yu-gi-oh World'. He hired a 'sensei' to teach him martial arts and a teacher for me to become the perfect wife and consort."

"Do you have to go to school dressed like that?" Harry gasped in shock. "I mean, they don't really dress like that in Japan unless it's something way formal, right?"

Another pearly tear trickled down her face. "I dropped out of Hogwarts, Harry. Yes, he insisted I play the part of a perfect Edo wife from the 1700s. This is the 1990s!!! Do you know what a field day Malfoy had with _that_?"

"What did Harry, er Masahiko do?" He whispered in shock.

"He agreed school was no place for a proper wife" Ginny sobbed with the memory. Mum and Dad were angry to a degree, but we all understand I'm to support my husband emotionally until he can kill Voldemort."

"But what about after?" Harry asked, stunned. "You have rights too! But wizard marriage is for life…" he found his own tears welling in his green eyes.

"Oh Harry" she drew a shuddering breath, stilling her crying. "At least we are not starting a family yet – I use birth control potions without him knowing. I drug him every other night so he will leave me alone. He thinks it's the calming tea and zen that is helping him to sleep so deeply." With a steely resolve Ginny sat up and changed subjects. "So tell me about yourself, Harry."

He swiftly covered the past few months – the betrayal of his Dumbledore and the unexpected help from Snape then Voldemort. Harry found himself totally trusting Ginny – _this_ Ginny - and filled her in on his travels, meeting new Harrys and helping to kill their 'Voldy problem'. She listened enraptured. He even told her about crazy Ginny back home.

"So Zippy has given you the ability to hop around and help other Harrys?" Ginny breathed in amazement. "Are you going to help mine?"

"I guess that's why I'm here" Harry shrugged. "Though I'm sort of grossed out by him. Perhaps we could drag him to Voldy, and the Death Munchers could all laugh themselves to death."

Ginny snorted in agreement. Harry eyed her for a moment. "Gin, I feel a bit uncomfortable with you in here, you being married and all." She nodded sadly. "Anyway – why don't you go back to bed, drug the dork again tomorrow and I'll have a surprise for you. We're going to continue your education tomorrow night, and don't worry – it's nothing immoral or anything like that." She looked up with a spark of mischief and hope in her eye, jumped up and left the room with a soft 'good night'.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The next morning Harry was greeted by his host and sat down to a breakfast of rice and a disgusting, smelly, sticky, gooey substance Ginny called 'natto'. The only positive thing about natto, Harry decided, was that it stuck to his chopsticks so he didn't have to spear anything like a newbie. Oh what he would have given for a slice of toast and some eggs!

"Did you have any plans for today, Harry-san?" Masahiko asked as he drained the last of his tea.

'_Yeah – a chiropractor for my back. After all this sitting and sleeping on the floor I need one' _he ruefully thought to himself. But he smiled outwardly and said "I'm free."

"Good. It's a Hogsmede weekend for Hogwarts" Masahiko nodded at his wife, who promptly cleared the dishes from the low table. She was wearing a kimono and traditional make-up once more. "The Order is going to meet up in the Three Broomsticks. We can disguise you and bring you along."

"Err – what kind of disguise?" Harry broke in with fear. He could not see himself in a robe, carrying a sword. No – not at all.

"I will take care of it, husband" Ginny swiftly said. "It would not be good to dress him in our way. He would not carry it convincingly. Let me disguise him in western garb."

"Thanks Akako" Harry breathed in relief. That was close_. Hmmm- Ginny back home wouldn't be that sensitive to his feelings and pride. Whoops – she's married – think about other things, boy._

A short time later Harry found himself with Masahiko walking down main street. The air was crisp and cool with fall, and the students were trickling in from the castle. Masahiko was wearing his traditional Japanese robes, long katana sword strapped to his belt, eyes steely and looking the part of the warrior. Sort of. Harry had his hair and eyes illusioned to brown and his outfit changed to a new set of robes from his trunk. Wizard robes. Western wizard robes.

Children were stopping and gaping at the Japanese wannabe. Harry's mood flip-flopped from amusement to mortification as kids pointed and laughed at just how silly Masahiko looked. At least the sword was obvious enough to keep kids from reacting too loudly or too closely. Harry slowed down enough so it didn't look like they were together. Ginny had the sense to stay home 'to clean up'. Coward.

As they approached the pub, Harry was less than thrilled to see a familiar blond head stepping out of the post office. He rolled his eyes as Draco Malfoy's steel gray eyes lighted on Masahiko with a vicious glint. Oh well, the ferret would probably just say everything that Harry himself had been thinking.

"Hello, Potter" the Slytherin prince sneered. "Still playing dress-up?"

Harry grimaced. It kept him from laughing at least. Masahiko sniffed disdainfully down at Draco and kept walking. Malfoy shot a curious glance at Harry, who was attempting to pretend he wasn't with Masahiko.

They entered The Three Broomsticks. Masahiko paused long enough to give Rosmerta a formal bow, then walk over to a private room. Harry caught the amused smirk in her eyes. It was now official – the Harry Potter of this world was complete and total git, and everyone knew it.

The room was large and well lit. It was furnished with a large table in the center, with a dozen chairs or so. Harry could feel the privacy and silencing wards tingling his skin as he entered. He looked around and recognized Remus, Snape, Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, various Weasleys and various other members of the Order who were all in turn eyeing him with curiosity. His stomach clenched a bit at seeing so many people who had betrayed him in his own world. One would think that by now he would be used to seeing Rons and Hermiones, but he wasn't – the pain was deeply rooted. With the smallest of sighs he kept his reactions hidden and secret.

"Ah, Masahiko my boy. Who's your friend?" the headmaster twinkled at him.

"Ohayo gozaimasu, sensei" Masahiko said with a low bow to Dumbledore. Harry rolled his eyes. He caught Snape watching him with thinly veiled amusement. Mad-Eye Moody was pointedly looking away, and everyone else was tolerating the scene with well-practiced emotional distancing. "May I present a traveler from another world – Harry Potter" and he gestured to Harry with practiced grace.

The introduction sparked the obvious uproar. Harry removed the glamour charms and sat down. As quickly as possible he introduced himself and his mission and answered any questions he could.

"So you are here to help us defeat You-Know-Who, and give yourself practice and experience so you can take care of your own if you can get back?" Remus summed it up. "What are you doing to prepare for our dark lord?"

"Errr" Harry stammered uncomfortably. "I've been getting a lesson in the Japanese culture. But I only just arrived yesterday."

Assorted snorts and titters echoed around the table. Masahiko was oblivious to everyone's scorn.

"Well, what can you guys tell me about Voldemort?" Everyone flinched at the name, just like back home Harry noted. Hermione cleared her throat, straightened her stack of parchments, and proceeded to lecture. Ahhh – the unchanging and familiar in a turbulent life.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Author Notes: I sincerely hope I haven't insulted anime fans – I'm just basing Masahiko after the most rabid of them. How's this Ginny? Believable? And does she fit Harry in a way that makes sense? In cannon I absolutely hate the pairing of Ginny and Harry, but I really wanted to try and write one that would be natural. I hope I succeeded – suggestions are always welcome._


	34. In Spite Of Him

**In Spite of Him – Chapter 34**

It had been a long day. Harry discussed, pondered, evaluated, and planned with the Order. The Order was thrilled to have a Potter who wasn't totally consumed with honor and posturing. They just wanted Voldemort dead. Lunch was served and Harry ate enough for four men. Almost as much as Ron. He didn't know how long it would be until his next English meal, and the fermented taste of the natto still clung to his senses like week old socks.

Remus was different in this universe. He was a bit sharp-tempered and far more independent than what Harry was used to. An edgy werewolf was an improvement over the wimps that most Remus's were, in Harry's opinion. Perhaps he was what Sirius referred to as 'alpha' – people listened to the ex-professor and Snape did not mock him.

Once again Harry did not bring up the Bond Terminator. There were 11 people in the room (not counting himself), and he already knew Dumbledore's motives and concern for the rights of the individual was suspect at best. Harry felt it was best to let Masahiko know about it in privacy and give him the vial to carry.

This universe was fairly similar to his – the main difference was the weak will of the headmaster. Dumbledore was still a selfish manipulator, but when confronted would fold immediately - hence Masahiko's ability to become instantly Japanese. Ron and Hermione appeared to have been supportive friends until they were embarrassed by the Boy-Who-Lived's eccentric lifestyle. Remus, as usual, did nothing to correct the situation, although the werewolf was missing the drenching of self-inflicted guilt that most Remus's seemed to have.

Another interesting change from Harry's universe was the Order of the Phoenix itself. Harry's Order was rather a joke – a very labor-intensive baby-sitting service that was formed to primarily keep him from leaving his jail on Privet Drive. HIs didn't seem to do anything else that Harry could recall. Thankfully, these guys seemed to actually serve a purpose – guarding muggle born's families, tailing Death Eaters, and actually guarding Riddle Manor to look for signs of Voldemort's whereabouts. Harry was impressed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once the meeting was finished and the two Potters returned home, Harry and Ginny watched Masahiko work out in his garden. The fanboy was going through an elaborate ritual of sword swipes and martial art moves that was entertaining and even beautiful, but rather useless against wands.

"Ginny – when does he get on with some magical dueling?" Harry whispered over to his friend who was standing by in forced humility.

"He doesn't anymore, Harry" she murmured back, low enough so Masahiko wouldn't hear her talking. "He's totally convinced Voldemort will meet him on the field of honor, whatever that is, and battle him samurai style." A lone tear escaped and crawled down her cheek.

"Oh my giddy aunt" Harry gasped. "He's nuts! Has Pomfrey checked him out? What about Moody – did he check for hexes? Imperious?"

"Yes on all three" she sniffed quietly.

Harry jumped to his feet abruptly. "All righty, Masahiko. Time to put the sword away. You heard the Order – it's gonna be Moldyshorts stomping time soon and you need to have your dueling up to par." He walked over to Masahiko, who was staring at him in shock and indignant rage.

"Please, Harry-san. Remove yourself. You are interrupting my training. This is all the dueling I will need." Masahiko gave firm and imperative gesture as if to brush him off the path.

"Masahiko – Harry – this is nice and it's got you in fine physical shape" Harry frown and stood planted. "But Voldemort has never carried a sword in the worlds I've dueled him on. He uses magic. He flatly refuses to use muggle fighting methods. Your blade can't stop a hex or curse."

"I will fight with honor and honor only" Masahiko shrugged. "This is all the dueling I need. If Voldemort can not meet as an equal, I will not fight."

"Um, Masahiko pal" Harry stammered, "We need to talk. Sit down and let's chat about this." He walked over to a stone bench and patted the empty spot next to him. His eastern-bent twin reluctantly followed with annoyance clearly written on his face.

"Yes?" he bit out sharply, plainly frustrated at taking time from his swordplay.

Harry sighed. This twin was obviously one fry short of a happy meal. "Look Masahiko. Honor only works between people of honor. Voldemort has none. Zero. Zip. Nada. He killed our folks. He tried to kill us as a baby. He murders muggles in their sleep, unless he feels like waking them up for a jolly little torture session first." He gave Masahiko a stern look. "The prophecy says you are the one to off him, probably because you are as good as he is evil. Stop playing around and hone _all_ your skills – it's not a game. You need to stop him, and I want to help."

Masahiko gave a condescending smile and patted Harry on the arm. "Yes, Harry-san. And the prophecy spoke of the 'power he knows not'. And that is why I practice so diligently with my katana."

"NO!" Harry shouted in frustration. "You don't know what that means – none of us do for sure! I think the power that prophecy is talking about is ME! I didn't need any stupid sword to kill the last twenty Voldys! But those Harrys and I sure took care of him!"

"That was nice of you, Harry-san" Masahiko stood up and gave a stiff bow. "But I will not need your assistance." He spun abruptly on his heel and strode down the path away from Harry and Ginny.

"He is so dead" Harry sighed. Ginny nodded in agreement, silent tears falling down her face.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

That night Harry rifled through his trunk while waiting for Ginny's 'special' sake to take affect on Masahiko. "Got it!" he chirped, pulling out a flask of potion.

"Got what?" came a feminine voice from the door way. Ginny was back, minus the 'Akako look'.

"This" Harry smiled widely, waving the bottle at her, "is Snape's special animagus potion. Harold and I used it in my first world, and I've given it to lots of Harrys since – it forces your first transformation on you. Beats years of study and pain."

"Does it work?" she cooed breathlessly, eyeing the glittering potion with excitement.

Harry grinned and transformed into his crested eagle form. He hopped up to her, gave an eagle-ish squawk and flapped his wings a couple times to show off. Ginny could have sworn that Hedwig, sitting on a perch in the corner of the room, rolled her yellow eyes. A second later and Harry stood once more by her side. "Yep – it works just dandy" he smirked.

"Well, what are we waiting for!" she grinned and reached out for the potion. "What do I do?"

"Sit and swallow. It'll hurt for a few minutes – I'm sure you're used to pain." Harry and she both unconsciously looked in the direction of Masahiko's room. Not all pain was physical – Masahiko had never struck her, but the wounds of humiliation and forced servitude ran deep.

Ginny sat down on the flat pad of a mattress. She flipped the cork off the flask and swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste. A moment later and she curled into a ball with a whimper of agony. Harry watched with fascination as she slowly morphed into a bird fairly similar to his own – but Ginny's was a peregrine falcon.

When she was able to move again falcon/Ginny hopped over to Harry and gave a chirp of query, cocking her bright-eyed face in wonderment.

"Yes Gin" he laughed and held an arm out. "You are a bird sort of like me – a falcon! Hop on up and try your wings!"

She spread her new wings out, looking them over carefully. With a couple of flaps she landed on his arm, clenching sharp talons to maintain her balance.

"Whoa there – watch the nails girl!" Harry yipped, and to his relief she relaxed her claws with a sheepish expression on her sharp-beaked face. "OK – hop down and let me change – we can go flying together!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was a night to remember. While Masahiko slept deeply in his bed, Ginny and Harry flew under the beautiful moon light. Skimming the tops of the trees in the forbidden forest with their wing tips, and enjoying the amazing vision of raptor eyes, they roamed the fields, woods, and towns surrounding Hogsmeade for most of the night.

The thrill of flight – unfettered freedom in all directions. Here Harry was truly at peace, in his element. Faster and faster the pair flew, trying new muscles, to see just what speed they could get. Ginny, as a falcon, beat him every time. Higher and higher until the air grew thin and it was too much work on the lungs and wings. He glanced over at his companion frequently and was pleased to see she appeared as natural in this environment as he, and radiated the same joy and contentment.

They took a rest in a thickly branched oak tree somewhere south of Hogsmeade. Without thinking Harry found himself cuddling up to her, preening her neck feathers where a bird can't reach for itself. Her eyes closed in bliss, the two gave into the animal comfort of warmth and protection without worrying about what the world might think. But Harry's human side was profoundly troubled. All the attractions he had felt throughout his travels for Ginevra Weasley seemed to be for _this_ Ginny. But his sense of protection and deep honest morality would not let him steal another man's wife. Even if that man was an idiot.

Finally, a few hours before dawn, the pair of birds returned and transformed back.

"Oh Harry – that was wonderful!" Ginny roughly combed her hair with her fingers, removing a stray twig that had lodged in her tresses. "It was so beautiful in the moonlight, so free! I felt like I could fly forever and never come back to earth!" She paused for a second and wrinkled her freckled nose. "I take it Masahiko's form would be the same as yours?"

"Oh no" Harry laughed. "Harold was a mouse! It was actually pretty appropriate. It was all I could do not to tease him – he was quite mortified. HJ was a panther. Various Harrys have had all kinds of animal forms."

Ginny giggled madly, then grew serious. "Thank you, Harry. This really means a lot to me."

Harry smiled gently. "Well, it was the least I can do, Gin. I figured once we deal with Moldyshorts you now have a way to escape. You might be married for life, but as a falcon you could at least fly out of hexing range and live on your own."

"How did you know what my form would be?" she asked him with interest.

"Er, I didn't" Harry stammered. "I assumed you loved to fly a broom as much as the Ginny from my world did, and it just followed." '_And as much as I love to fly,_' the thought came unbidden to his heart.

"I noticed you didn't say 'my Ginny' when you mentioned her" the youngest Weasley pointed out. She knew that Gin was not someone Harry was attracted to, but wanted to hear it again.

Harry sat down on the flat uncomfortable mattress next to Ginny. "She wasn't and isn't 'my' Ginny. That Ginny was always smitten with 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' and 'The-Boy-Who-Lived's' bank vault. She had no interest in me, Harry." He gave a sad sigh. "I wish she was like you – fiery, independent, yet willing to sacrifice for a noble cause. I wish I had someone like you waiting for me back in my world."

Several unspoken wishes were communicated in the sad, wistful look that passed between them. Ginny stood up with sorrow, turned and left the room for her husband's chambers, where she belonged. Harry watched her go with profound aching.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was a short two days later when Remus apparated into Masahiko's garden. Harry was sitting and watching his twin play with his sword, and Ginny was off preparing tea or whatever in the house.

"Masahiko! Harry! It's time!" Remus shouted with excitement. The Order is at Riddle Manor – we saw Voldemort apparate in and enter the house with Peter – it's just the two of them. We have anti-apparition wards all around the place. Let's go!"

Harry checked for his wand and a vial of potion, which he offered over to Masahiko. Needless to say, his twin imperiously brushed it off with a sniff. "Don't you understand?" Harry snarled with exasperation, "This will break the bond between you two. If he gets killed you will too without this potion in your system! Take it and stop being a prat!"

Again the arrogant smile. "Harry-san, I appreciate what you are trying to do. But I do not need your potions and your help. Voldemort and I have nothing in common – the bond was broken when I embraced my heritage."

Ginny had joined them in the garden as fast as her wooden-clogged feet would allow. The three of them rolled their eyes in exasperation at Masahiko's stubbornness. "Good luck, husband" she said softly, doe-like eyes watching him with sorrow.

Masahiko stepped close to her and tilted her chin up with his finger. "I will return, Akako." With that the three of them popped away for Riddle Manor. However Ginny's eyes lingered on the spot where _Harry_ last stood, as tears of frustration leaked from her eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was as short and anti-climatic battle as Harold's had been, though it was no where near as entertaining. Despite everyone trying to keep Masahiko hidden and wait for Voldemort to leave the house, the fanboy moron boldly strode up to the front door and pounded on it, demanding Riddle's presence. Riddle gladly obliged.

Harry could see Remus pounding his head against a gravestone in frustration. Moody was rolling his eyes, and Snape was cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his wand, the very vision of boredom. Dumbledore was standing calmly watching the proceedings. Harry had a disgusted feeling that the headmaster knew full well what was about to happen.

And happen it did. The Dork Lord came out to greet him, took one look at Masahiko's attire, and burst out laughing. He thrust his wand forward and cut him in two from across the porch with a single hex. Harry didn't know which was more amusing (in a sick twisted way) – the expression on Masahiko's face as he crumpled to the ground in two halves, or the look on Voldemort's as he did the same.

The remaining battle ended quickly. Peter was swiftly captured and somehow never made it to the aurors. Remus swore afterwards that the rat had drawn a hidden second wand on him, but Harry felt confidant that Remus simply wanted revenge. Riddle Manor was ransacked by the order so dark items could be disposed of, and written records kept so remaining Death Eaters could more easily be rounded up.

Next Harry and the order had the sad task of returning home to the widow Burakku to give her the tragic news of her husband's passing. He wasn't looking forward to it at all – he felt like he was drowning in guilt. What if he had forced Masahiko to take the potion first? Why didn't he simply petrify him when he knocked on Riddle's door? The truth was it simply all happened too quickly for Harry to react. Hind sight is always 20/20.

Harry apparated back to the Burakku home, heavy of heart and not sure what to say. He had never delivered the news of someone's death to a friend before. As much as he disliked his twin of this world, he never wanted him dead. And from the way Ginny had tried to convince Masahiko to prepare, he was sure she loved him, or had at one point.

As soon as he arrived Ginny ran outside, alerted by the soft 'pop' of his house-elf styled apparition. Brown eyes shiny with tears she looked at him with wordless desperation and her heart fell as she saw the apology in his.

"Was it painless?" the witch whispered in sorrow.

"It was very fast" Harry assured her, sitting heavily on a bench. He shook his head, as he instinctively reached for her hand. "I'm sorry, Gin. I tried to get him to take the potion. I really, really tried."

She leaned on his shoulder, sobbing hard. She expected it, but it didn't make it easier. She would miss him – the Harry she knew back in Hogwarts. This Harry, patting her back uncomfortably, looked up helplessly at her mother who was coming out of the house. She fiercely fought off traitorously thoughts as she pondered how comforting this man felt, where Masahiko would have told her to basically 'suck it up'. Molly gathered her daughter in her arms, and Harry discreetly slipped away.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry stayed in hiding at the Burakku home, hidden safely under strong glamour charms reinforced with elf magic. The world would not appreciate a second Harry Potter, when they were celebrating his victory and mourning his passing. Ginny's tears flowed freely as they healed and commiserated together on what a waste it all was, how needless and silly. She mourned the loss of the man she once loved, but could not honestly say in her heart of hearts she missed the man he had become.

Burakku Masahiko was laid to rest in the Hogwarts cemetery with honors befitting a hero, even though it was known by a select few the only thing Masahiko had actually done was to allow him self to be killed. Once the funeral was over Ginny had immediately shed the traditional Japanese garb for witch's robes, not caring what Rita Skeeter wanted to say about it. She asked her mother to stay in the house as a chaperone to prevent gossip during the grieving period, and the three of them enjoyed the first good British food seen under that roof in ages.

The house had changed a lot in the following weeks. Solid walls replaced paper screens. Real beds, tables and chairs replaced flat cushions on the floor. The sound of shoes clumped down the halls once again. Oh, it wasn't instant England overnight, and it wasn't done out of spite. Ginny did grieve and she left the gardens and tea house untouched in honor of Masahiko's memory. But needless to say her kimonos and make-up disappeared immediately.

Early one morning Harry looked in shock at a calendar sitting on the table. Six months had gone by since he arrived at this world, and he hadn't done a thing to train or learn anything new. Every day had passed helping the Weasley's, Ginny in particular, and getting her through her loss. It was time to move on – he had his own Voldemort to work toward. Harry looked sadly down the hall where the red-head was playing exploding snap with her mother. They had grown so close.

With hope and despair overlapping in his heart, he headed for Hogwarts – he needed a talk with the headmaster.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You're leaving, then?" Ginny asked from the doorway. Harry was folding the last of his clothes and going through the ritual – check for wand and Bond Terminators hanging around neck, shrink trunk and place in pocket. He had a busy time yesterday, and now his visit to this world needed to come to an end.

He looked up at her. "Yes. Will you come with me?"

"How?" Ginny gasped. "You are eventually going back to your world! Wouldn't two Ginny Weasleys be a bit much?" But despite the arguing, she had a hungry, desperate look in her eye. This was the Harry she had always loved, and this Harry didn't change drastically when life threw him a curve. Masahiko was a painful parody of the real Harry Potter – the one she was meant to be with.

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps. But I think a Ginny Weasley and a Ginny Potter could fit. After all, my being around other Harry Potters hasn't messed up the time space continuum or anything."

"Are you proposing to me, Mr. Potter?" Ginny asked with hope rich in her voice.

He laughed and grabbed her hands. "Yes, Mrs. Potter I am. Sort of. I mean technically in this world we are already married I think. But Dumbledore did agree to re-do the vows for us since he owes you big-time." He smiled over Ginny's shoulder at Molly Weasley, who was listening in. "I already asked your folks."

"But aren't you only 16?" Ginny asked with trembling voice.

"Who knows" Harry shrugged. "I've never really had a childhood, and this time travel is gonna mess with our heads if we think about it too much. I say lets go for it."

It would be the last time Harry saw tears for many a month, and this time they were tears of happiness. With a breathy 'yes', the engagement was sealed with a passionate kiss and Harry proceeded to _un_pack his trunk.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry and Ginny spent another month before moving on. They married in secret in Dumbledore's office, but couldn't file any paperwork with the Ministry. After all, Harry Potter was dead as far as they were concerned. But it was legal and ethical enough to please Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, so it was good enough for the Potters.

They sold the house in Hogsmeade, and Ginny went to town redecorating the magical trunk Snape had given Harry so many worlds ago. The trunk was something Harry had rather taken for granted – its empty walls and flickering torches too gloomy to stay in for any length of time. Ginny, however, gleefully saw the potential immediately. She transfigured them a nice compact home complete with a small library, kitchen, bath, 2 bedrooms and vault. Walls and floors were paneled with warm woods, and enchanted windows facing a forever summer view of the forbidden forest now brought sunshine and cheerfulness into the rooms. Curtains, doilies, vases – those feminine touches that Harry would never have thought of on his own, now transformed what was once a dungeon into a home.

Masahiko had refused to make out a will, so Ginny cleaned out the Potter vaults in Gringotts, giving a quarter of the money to her parents, a quarter each to Tonks and Remus, and keeping the rest in their trunk. They felt it wouldn't be fair to expect every Harry on every world to support the married couple.

Zippy popped in as they checked to make sure everything was packed. He wordlessly handed an amulet identical to Harry's to the new Mrs. Potter. Harry sat down for a moments and sighed.

"What is troubling you, Master Harry?" Zippy asked him with amusement.

"I don't know, Zippy." He looked at the elf with frustration. "Where did I screw this one up? I mean my twin died here. I really tried to keep him alive, but he refused to do anything right. I messed up, and I'm not really sorry about it, but I don't want to make any serious mistakes in the other worlds. Also, what did I learn here? This didn't help me toward my Voldemort."

Zippy laughed. "Who says you screwed up, Master Harry?" Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. "You won't necessarily learn something in each of your adventures. Sometimes fate owes you a favor. Sometimes you just need to do fate a favor. Masahiko really was a prat. Fate says 'thank you very much.' "

Ginny nodded in emphatic agreement and the trio popped away to the next world and the next Voldemort.

_Author Notes: Sorry this took so long! I really struggled to make it believable. I didn't want Ginny becoming a widow and a new bride the next day, and I want her to be a wife everyone can wrap their brains around. I hope it works - it was in my head for so long, I know most of the details never made it to computer..._


	35. One More Dance

_Author note: There are many excellent 'Harry goes back in time to try again' stories, and so many of them are fantastic. Well, Harry isn't the only powerful wizard with that option…and I don't think this has been done._

**Chapter 35 – One More Dance**

Albus Dumbledore stood in the formal parlor of number 4, Privet Drive, glaring at the three Dursleys petrified on sofa. Petrified, except for the fear and loathing radiating from their eyes. The headmaster of Hogwarts was stiff as a board, glowing an aura of angry gold so powerful even the muggles could see it. He wanted to kill them after looking through their memories. Then he wanted to end his own pathetic, worthless life.

Mrs. Figg had told him for years. Harry had hinted at it. Minerva made her opinion clearly heard. The Weasley family went on and on about it. But still, the great Albus Dumbledore knew better. He always had the answers – wasn't he the strongest, wisest and oldest of the wizards of the light? Well, he hadn't known this time.

With a primal snarl he snapped at the terrified trio, "be thankful I don't kill you for what you did to that poor boy – your own flesh and blood! I should never have trusted you. I should have watched you, instead of that foolish vow to give you privacy." The wizard paused a moment to catch his breath and rein in his temper just enough to keep from going down the long, dark one-way path to evil. "As it is, you have doomed us all. When Voldemort rescued Harry from your cruelty, he found the support and guidance you never gave him. The two of them will now destroy not only my world, but yours. And I'm sure you are on the top of his list."

Dumbledore was grateful to see the fear deepen in their unmoving eyes. Fear and understanding. He spat furiously, "you had better move, and quickly. You might have minutes before he arrives. I don't know, and I don't care. You are on your own, like you deserve." With a flick of his wand he released the Dursleys from the spell that held them in place, then apparated away, silent as a ghost.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Great heaving sobs shook his body as he collapsed in his favorite chair and laid his head in his hands on his heavy desk. He had blamed the Dursleys to their faces for Harry Potter turning dark, but he knew who was really to blame. It was him. Nobody else but himself. Fawkes flapped a couple of wing beats and landed gently on his heaving back, trilling gently.

"Thank you, old friend," Dumbledore whispered, "but even your music can not heal this wound. I did it to him, just like I did it to Tom. Why can't I ever take advice from others? What made me so convinced everything would work out on its own?" The tears started in fresh again, as his phoenix companion looked around the room helplessly.

Inspiration hit his familiar, and the creature flashed away in colorful flames, returning in a moment with one shocked and sputtering Minerva McGonnagal. She stood from where she had landed clumsily on the ground, getting ready to launch into a spirited verbal attack on the bird, but stopped in a moment, seeing the wreck of a man weeping piteously on his desk. "Albus?" she asked softly, in disbelief. In all her years around the man she had witnessed many occasions when a theatrical tear would escape from the man's eye, but this? This was a man who was broken.

He looked up in embarrassment and tried to still his crying, slamming occlumency shields into place to keep his grief to himself. But it was no use – the guilt was too strong, the remorse too powerful. His sorrow, for once in his life, was too sincere.

The professor gaped for a moment, shook to the core, but made her way around the desk and placed a tentative hand on his back. "Albus? What is the matter? I have never seen you like this!"

Swiveling in his chair, he wrapped his arms unashamedly around her slender waste wetting her robes with his tears. Hiccupping like a child he slowly stilled his crying and called her name, like the lifeline it was. He had to tell her – she would hear soon enough, and despise him. Almost as much as he despised himself.

"Harry turned to Voldemort," he spoke so quietly she had to strain to understand. "I did it to him. I just returned from the Dursleys. You were right, Minerva. I read all their thoughts – the things they have done to him all these years would melt the heart of a basilisk. They beat him, hated him, never hugged him or said nice things. He never had clothes or toys of his own, never had friends. They barely fed him enough to stay alive. They tried to kill him many, many times – only his magic kept him alive. And I refused to listen. I, the 'great' leader of the light, have doomed us all."

She trembled as he spoke. Quietly she took his withered hands and guided him to the sofa in the office, sat down by his side and held him as she would a child. She started to speak several times, but each time stilled her tongue, knowing the words would not help anyone at this moment. Dear Lily's son, the apple of James' eye, gone dark. She should have seen it coming – ever since Harry's fifth year the teen had grown more morose, volatile, and uncontrollable. Teachers and students were encouraged to 'give him space to grieve', but nobody was allowed to help. It seemed to her it was just as much her fault as any.

"How can you comfort me, knowing what I did!" he finally asked, sitting up and wearily leaning his elbows on his frail knees, rubbing his forehead. "Do you not understand? We know the levels of Harry's raw power – and he hasn't even reached his majority! He showed me the markings of the first ritual of immortality before he apparated away. He used Hagrid as his sacrifice! There is no turning back – I know that now."

A lone tear crept down the woman's cheek. "Albus, we are all to blame. I knew what the Dursleys were like, yet I never checked up on them in all those years. I saw his clothing, how thin and starved he was at the start of each school year. It's my fault just as much as yours."

He shook his head sorrowfully. "Thank you, Minerva, but I had forbidden you or anyone else to 'interfere'. And as old as I am, I know how to make people do my wishes. It rests on me and me alone."

"Albus Dumbledore!" the animagus snapped, shaking a finger in his face. "That is enough of that! Perhaps you did tell us what you wished us to do, but we are still beings of free will. We could have chosen to disobey, but decided not to! And you did not make the Dursleys mistreat him! Didn't you give them an unbreakable vow to leave them alone until he started Hogwarts?"

"Y-y-y-yes," the man quavered like a child. "But when he showed up, looking so lost, clueless, and starved – why didn't I do something?"

"Because you always choose to believe the best in people," the professor snapped back. She paused a moment to call an elf for tea and some of the headmaster's favorite lemon tarts, before continuing in her no-nonsense tone of voice. "I, by the way, agree. Once a wizard had chosen to do that ritual, he's gone. Now we have two very powerful and twisted wizards to take down. Where do we start?"

"I destroyed his childhood, his youth, every chance at happiness. I treated him like some weapon or trophy, never a child with needs. Now I must take his life as well?" He looked at her in desperation. "I don't know if I can do that, Minerva" he whispered frailly. "I would do anything, give anything to repair this. But kill him too?"

"Ahem," a sneering voice called from one of the portraits. Minerva glared at Phineas Nigellus and shook her head in a 'not now' gesture. The former headmaster ignored her and mockingly called to Dumbledore. "Anything, Albus? Just how far is anything? I might have a solution – a desperate one, but a solution none the less."

Albus scrutinized the painting. Phineas was one of the most despised headmasters in Hogwart's history. Whispered to be a wizard of the darkest sort, Dumbledore knew he had a barbed tongue that gained him a nasty reputation, and was extremely strict with the children under his charge. But he wasn't an evil man like most people thought. "What do you mean? I would do anything to right all the wrongs I did to Harry. And why would you go against a Black? After all, Sirius did make him the head of your house…"

The former Lord of the House of Black shrugged. He casually reached down into drawer in a cupboard in his portrait, removed a glittering object and tossed it casually at the broken wizard and startled witch. It flew out of the painting and landed in Albus' lap. "I've been saving it for a special occasion. I just returned from watching young Mr. Potter at Grimmauld Place from my hidden portrait. You are correct – he is volatile, powerful, and bitter beyond all repairs. He is, I'm afraid, quite beyond redemption. That device in your lap is the only solution I know of. As to why – I am helping the current Lord of the House of Black, though he might not agree at the moment."

Dumbledore picked up the small gold and glass creation from its landing place. He held it gently so the witch could see it too. "A time turner?" she shook her head sadly. "What will a few hours buy us, Phineas?"

But the mugwhump was less fatalistic, and hope bloomed in his eyes. "But this goes back more than a few hours, if I am I correct, Mr. Nigellus?"

The painting's smirk grew wider. "Indeed. It will work once, and once only, and send you back 15 years, to be precise. Mr. Potter will be 4 years old. Still with those damnable muggles, but not so damaged as of yet." He gave a smug nod, and returned to his formal pose, bored with the conversation.

The wizard smiled a huge, sincere smile of hope. But Minerva was not so convinced. "Oh no you don't, Albus Dumbledore! How can you trust this man? It could be a trap – a trap sent by Harry himself! He just said he came from Grimmauld Place! Don't you dare just jump blindly into this!"

Humming contently to himself, Albus ignored his friend as he gently placed the long golden chain around his neck. "One turn then, Phineas?" he asked the portrait politely. The painting nodded his head and remained silent.

Glaring with impotent fury, Minerva grabbed the chain with one hand and looped it over her neck too, holding Dumbledore closely with her other. "Well if you are going to do something this reckless and foolish than I will join you! You will need a woman to keep you grounded and your brain on the earth!!!"

Albus gave her a beatific smile and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead, which was red with anger. "Are you sure, dear? This is a one-way trip, and you are correct, as always. It could end badly."

"Headmaster – it's better than doing nothing!" she snarled. "And you need me. You always have, but were too stubborn to realize it!"

Fawkes too flew across the room, landed on Dumbledore's shoulder and placed the chain around his own neck with his sharp beak. He knew you can't trust wizards to keep themselves out of trouble.

"Yes, dear," he solemnly agreed, with no trace of teasing. "I do need you to keep me from making mistakes." Planting a gentle kiss on the surprised witch's lips, and with a flip of the tiny hourglass, they were gone.

_-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-._

_Author Note: I'm attempting here to write a good Dumbledore. I hate the character, so this is a real stretch for me…_


	36. This Time Will Be Better

**Chapter 36 – This Time Will Be Better**

_Author Notes: There seemed to be a lot of confusion with the last chapter – I do apologize, and hope that this one makes everything clear. Yes, this world is about our Harry helping the local Harry – I just started it from Dumble's point of view. _

Harry stretched and groaned, looking around. They were standing in the parlor of the Dursley's home. The Dursley's home – never his. "Ginny?" he whispered with desperation. Did he leave her behind?

"Harry?" she answered back softly. "Where are we?" Her warm hand wiggled into his own.

He opened his eyes wider and adjusted slowly to the dim light. Scanning the ugly photos above the mantle, he was shocked to realize the photos of 'Duddums' were all pre-school. There was a very young child, or even a baby in the cupboard. "We are at the Dursleys, love" he explained as he sent silencing charms around the dwelling. The Harry of this world must be a baby still – certainly before school age."

"I get to see you as a baby?" Ginny clapped her hands together with excitement. "I just know you were adorable! What's wrong?" She stopped her happy dance and examined her husband's face. He was looking at a closet door, back steeled and sorrow in his eyes.

"It's not going to be pretty, Gin" he answered softly.

"Harry?" his wife asked him hesitantly. "You said the Dursleys were mean to you. Just bad were they? You never told me much about them."

The Boy-Who-Lived faced her and smiled sadly and wistfully. "I don't talk about them much because it was pretty horrible. Be prepared – this child is most likely going to shock you."

Before he could walk to the padlocked cupboard, both of them could feel the sensation of apparition shimmer in the air. In one fluid motion Harry pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket and swirled it over their heads, pulling his young wife back to the wall. Wands out, the pair waited to see who was coming – Death Eaters, or worse?

To their amazement they watched as Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonnagal appeared with the faintest of 'pops', blink and rub their eyes and look around the parlor with resignation and determination on their faces. "Did we do it, Albus? What year is it?" the elderly witch asked him nervously.

"How would I know, my dear?" the headmaster answered good naturedly. He turned toward the cupboard after casting a few silencing spells and sighed. "And now, my dear boy, to start to put things to right. Let's get you out of this house and off to a happier life."

"What are you going to do to him, headmaster?" Harry snarled and ducked out from under the cloak, leaving Ginny hidden.

Albus and Minerva jumped as they turned around to see a very angry young man with a very dangerous looking wand pointed at them. Fawkes trilled in happy recognition, but the dim light made it difficult for the older pair to see clearly. The mugwhump blinked a few times in disbelief. "James? Lilly?" he whispered with hope rich in his voice.

Ginny remembered Harry had told her the headmaster could see through invisibility cloaks, and pulled it off, carefully placing it in her robe pocket. "Sorry, no" she shook her head. "Why _are_ you here?" she asked with the hostility of a lioness.

"Minerva! It's Harry from the future! He's come back in time too!" Swiftly, despite his age, the elderly wizard planted himself in front of the cupboard door firmly. "You can not have him, Harry. I will not allow you to hurt him. I have come to correct my mistakes and keep you from the path you took."

Ginny and Harry gaped at each other stupidly and lowered their wands (perhaps stupidly also). They examined the teachers for a moment, and finally Harry spoke up. "We aren't from the future – we are from another dimension. We were going to rescue young Harry ourselves."

"Can I have your wizard's oath on that?" Dumbledore asked, glaring protectively at the young couple. "Yours too, Miss Weasley?"

"If we can have the both of yours," Harry agreed, holding up his wand in the formal oath-giving position.

"Agreed" the headmaster readily answered, raising his own. All four magical beings exchanged formal vows that they meant only good to the young Harry Potter, an end to Voldemort's reign, and worked for the light, then all four then pocketed their wands, reassured.

"Now let's get this child out of that horrible cupboard!" Minerva wearily said, pushing Albus out of the way. "Then we can figure out where to take him."

Ginny gasped and swung her head to her husband. "You grew up in a closet???" she cried. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The young wizard shrugged his shoulders. "I hate it when people pity me, Gin. Everyone always thought I was spoiled and looking for attention. When I did ask for help, nobody would believe me." Harry caught the crestfallen and guilty look on Albus' face out of the corner of his eye.

While Harry was speaking, Minerva magically unlocked the padlock and gently opened the cupboard door, peering inside with the help of her faintly lit wand. "Harry darling? Are you in here?"

"Harwy?" a child's voice lisped back. "I'm not Harwy. My name is Freawk."

The elderly professor crawled out carrying a very young child around four years old if the young couple could guess, and very pitifully dressed. Large green eyes and messy black hair were clearly seen in the dim light. As was the filthy simple shirt the child wore, a diaper that was way, way overdue for a change, and the obvious bruises and injuries of serious abuse. The young Harry Potter was cradling an arm protectively, and Harry spoke up gently, "careful – I think that arm is broken."

Tears were in everyone's eyes as they viewed the trusting baby in her arms. The hopeful look he was giving Minerva would melt the hardest of hearts. "How would you like to leave here, little one?" she asked him gently. "Nobody would ever hit you again, sweetheart."

"Pwuease?" the child asked softly, and leaned against her. Young Harry Potter had not learned to fear human touch yet.

"Where to?" she asked the other three, who were looking at the young child with various expressions of pity, self-loathing, and concern.

"He needs medical attention, Minerva dear," Dumbledore softly answered, stroking the baby's good arm very gently. "But I know how Mr. Potter hated hospitals and publicity."

Harry snorted. "At this age he didn't mind any kind of attention," he replied bitterly. "Let's take him to St. Mungos, get the abuse documented to press charges against my relatives, and then I can take us somewhere safe and unplottable."

"Potter Manor?" Dumbleddore asked remorsefully. Harry nodded without speaking. "It would be best – I'm still keyed to the wards, as evidently you are, Mr. Potter."

"Let's go, Albus," Minerva interrupted. "We have a child who needs a mediwizard."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next few hours were a blur. The famous Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonnagal, and two additional people apparated to St. Mungo's emergency with a seriously injured Harry Potter. Ginny and her husband had applied glamour charms before leaving, as well as notice-me-nots.

The child had a broken arm as Harry had suspected, remembering the injury from his own childhood. There were signs of broken legs, a broken wrist, broken ribs that had healed poorly over the baby's short life, as well as multiple bruises, contusions, and severe malnutrition and diaper rash. The mediwitch on duty put the baby into a coma and whisked him off to a private room, aurors in tow to guard the famous young patient. The four rescuers followed without asking permission.

Aurors took Dumbledore's statement and made a warrant for the Dursley's arrest. The four sat back and watched silently for a while as the staff worked on repairing the breaks and bruises of the young innocent child's body. Harry discreetly cast a wandless silencing charm, causing Albus' eyebrows to rise with surprise.

"What were you planning on doing next with my young former self?" he asked Dumbledore with less hostility than he felt an hour ago. "Why did you come back, and why this age?"

The mugwhump sighed. Removing his glasses to wipe tired rheumy eyes, he glanced at Minerva for support. "Harry Potter of our time went dark. I made so many mistakes, I can not count them all, nor atone for them. I did not listen to him, check up on him, nor help him. He turned to the only help he could find."

"Voldemort?" Harry asked weakly. The headmaster nodded, sorrow pouring from his very being. "I can't believe I would do that" he whispered in shock.

Minerva broke in, with just as much regret in her voice. "He took the death of his godfather so badly. He begged us for help, be we foolishly thought leaving him alone with his grief was for the best." She shook her head again. "But we are back to fix it right. We were going to adopt him, but we need to hear your plans first. Perhaps you have more right to him than we do, and would do a better job. But I don't want that child out of my sight, personally."

Harry gaped at them in disbelief. "You would have adopted me if you had known?" The two professors nodded in unison.

"Careful Harry," Ginny spoke softly, resting her hand on his arm. "These aren't your McGonnagal and Dumbledore. We don't know them yet. Your Dumbledore pulled a lot worse on you from what you said." She wondered if Harry heard her – the desperate hope in his eyes spoke volumes of his longing for a healthy relationship with the man he once admired. Minerva and Albus sure did – the guilt and sorrow in their faces said much also.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As the week went by, young Harry Potter healed and gained weight in his sleep. Safe in St. Mungos with at least one of the four rescuers in the room at all times, they spoke often and got to know each other under the privacy of silencing charms. Harry took each one of them, one at a time, to Potter Manor to adjust the wards and get them familiar with their future home.

"So now the big questions is," Ginny spoke one afternoon as they nibbled on sandwiches while watching the baby sleep, "is do we let him stay Harry Potter, or change his name? So far the wizarding world is unaware the Dursleys were arrested, but it won't be quiet for long."

Dumbledore sighed as the other three looked at him for answers. "As it will be myself to adopt him, I would like to change his name for his privacy's sake. I can take a few years leave of absence and return with an orphaned 'nephew' or the like, and most folks will not put two and two together." He gave another sad sigh and looked at Harry apologetically. "There are very few folks still alive that remember what your father looked like at his age – we shouldn't need to use glamour charms on him. Too many chances to forget to apply them."

Ginny nodded with approval. "Especially if you correct his vision." She turned and gave her husband a quizzical look. "How come your father never did, Harry?"

The Boy-Who-Lived gave an amused shrug. "I can't say for every James Potter I've met, but Harold's dad had learned how to charm eye glasses at an early age, so once he was old enough to have his vision magically corrected, he didn't want to."

"Charm his eye glasses?" Minerva asked, lips pinched in a thin, disapproving line.

Harry blushed. "Well, as a young boy he charmed them to see through stuff on a whispered command. You can imagine as a teenager he wouldn't want to lose that…"

The headmaster gave a dry chuckle, Ginny snickered, and Minerva simply threw up her hands in mock defeat. "He always was such a rogue" she complained.

"Albert," the mugwhump Interrupted.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, giving him a strange look, along with Ginny and Minerva.

"Albert Dumbledore. I will name him Albert. All the Dumbledores have first names beginning with 'A'." He nodded in satisfaction.

Minerva reached over the hospital bed and stroked the child's sleep. "What do you think about that, little one?" she cooed. "It is far nicer than 'freak'". The adults in the room nodded in agreement.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry and Ginny were sitting in the parlor of their trunk, resting on the sofa and drinking tea. It was nice to take a break in familiar comfort. He was playing with her long red hair as she gazed out the enchanted windows absentmindedly. "What are you thinking of?" he asked with a smile. It had been an interesting week – young Albert/Harry hadn't awakened yet, but should tomorrow. Albus and Minerva were certainly sincere in their desire to help the child, and the minister had already approved the adoption.

Turning to face him, she examined her husband's face with serious attention. "Harry – what is there to do in this world? And how do you know when you are finished?"

"Mmmm – good question," he pondered, sipping a mug of tea. "Yes, I trust Albus and Minerva. But prophecy says Harry Potter is the only one who can defeat Voldemort. I like to take out Voldys before they come back during the tri-wizard – they are a whole lot easier, and save the Harrys from the trauma I went through." He took another sip and kissed her on the forehead. "I also want to get to know a nice Dumbledore – there aren't many of them out there."

"Makes sense" she nodded, then returned his kiss. "I agree – it's nice to meet a Dumbledore that doesn't make your hackles rise." Ginny gave a short involuntary shudder. She really hoped to return home someday and have some revenge on 'her' Albus. Harry had been too nice to him in her opinion.

They spent a few more moments just enjoying the privacy, when Ginny cleared her throat gently. "Harry – are you sure you can't just tell Albus what you know about Voldemort and leave it to him? After all – he is the only wizard Tom ever feared…"

He shook his head sadly. "Sorry Hon – the prophecy is very clear. And without the bond terminator, poor little Albert is doomed – you know that better than anyone." Harry looked at her quizzically. "What is wrong?"

"I don't know," the redhead whispered. "But I'm afraid it's not going to be very easy this time."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Author Notes: See – I can write a nice Albus. I just don't want to most of the time! Also, I'm getting the impression folks want me to wrap this up and get Harry back home – let me know your feelings. I have five or so world in various degrees of completion, and more rattling around in my head, but I can ditch them and just start winding down – the back home stuff promises to be good._


	37. When the Shoe Is On the Other Foot

**Chapter 37 – When the shoe is on the other foot**

_Author notes: Some reviewers have asked questions about the time line here, so here's a quick summary. Albus and Minerva went back in time – there are no younger versions of themselves in Hogwarts. Since they are both elderly, the 15 year jump won't be noticed appearance-wise by friends and co-workers. They have taken a leave of absence from Hogwarts to raise young Albert. _

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The young nurse shook her head. Some children were cute when they were chubby. Some obese children were even attractive despite their unfortunate weight. But the new child in the orphanage certainly was not. She had been called in yet again to see to the beast, as she privately referred to the boy. He most likely needed to be tranquilized. Again.

With a deep breath she opened the door to the facility, and was met with the customary screaming of a child who had been obviously spoiled, and spoiled rotten in his short life. This was a victim of his upbringing that might never adjust to his new circumstances.

The nurse made her way to the common room, where the cries and shouts were the loudest. It was the same story every time – the other young orphans were huddled against the wall, sobbing in fear. The older orphans were glaring at the perpetrator, hands clapped over ears and thinking vengeful thoughts. The workers were frantically trying to quiet their charge, hair askew, nerves frazzled, and frantic in their attempts to quiet the young terror.

"MUUUUMMMMY! I WANT MY MUMMY!" Blond hair was standing up, watery blue eyes and watery nose running all over his fat, bloated face. The boy's huge, pudgy fists held handfuls of hair, obviously pulled from one of the worker's scalp. His skin was deep red, his lungs screaming to almost impossible decibels.

The nurse sighed. She wanted to feel sorry for this child – and she tried. Honestly, she tried. But he was so spoiled, so violent, and so unrepentant, it was hard to feel charitable at all. And it wasn't as if he had been orphaned because of a tragic accident. The boy's parents were in jail for severely abusing the boy's cousin. The case worker told her every pound of excess fat and flab on this monster represented a pound of healthy muscle and fat missing off his own flesh and blood. The cousin had been starved, beaten, and caged like an animal. And this boy, for all practical purposes, _was_ an animal.

"There, there child! What would your daddy say?" the nurse shouted, and succeeded in getting the brat's attention. "Your mummy can't come right now. You can't keep hurting your minders like this!"

The child sat back and blinked stupidly. "Da-da-da-da!" he sobbed. "Dada wuv me! Dada gimme candy!" The thought of the endless sweets he used to enjoy set off a fresh burst of tears and keening.

The nurse reached into her pocket and pulled out a small lollie. "Would you like this?" she waved the treat in the air temptingly. "I need you to be quiet and act like a man – not a baby."

With speed unexpected of a child so young and so obese, he jumped to his feet, pinched the nurse hard on the leg drawing blood. He grabbed the candy she dropped in shock, shoving it in his drooling mouth wrapper and all. She shook her head in grim disapproval. But the workers knew the routine. As the child hiccupped and sobbed, more quietly at least, and inhaled the candy, the three of them pinned him roughly to the floor so he could get an injection. Slowly, finally the boy relaxed and then fell asleep into a drug-induced haze.

"At least we will get a day's rest from the beast" one of the women glared as she got off the floor, dusting off her skirt and examining the back of her arm where the child had scratched her.

"Here- let me clean that for you dear," the nurse said, grabbing her bag. Anytime she was called out to quiet the boy there would be several wounds to treat afterwards. Pinches, bites, claw marks… the child really was a demon.

"I hope his parents got long sentences for raising a brute like him" the other worker spat, gesturing at the drooling unconscious child on the floor.

"Dudley Dursley – what are we going to do with you?" the nurse said softly, shaking her head. "Nobody will ever want to adopt you with your attitude." He had the weight of an 11 year old, the appearance of a six year old, and the mental ability of a three year old. Tops. Spoiled, violent, not very bright, and not attractive – she could bet the poor orphanage would not be saying good bye to this child until he was of legal age to leave on his own.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A full year came and went. Albus, Minerva, Harry and Ginny were working hard on decorating the sunny informal dining room for a birthday party. Dumbledore wanted a surprise party, with lots of guests, but Harry convinced him that it would terrify the young boy who had come so far. They had some terse words over it, but the headmaster and young wizard finally worked it out like adults.

How does one sum up a year in a simple few sentences? Harry was starting to learn how to better tap into and control his powerful magical core with the help of the headmaster. Ginny and Harry grew closer, and learned about parenting a child together, giving them both wonderful dreams for their future. Minerva got to raise the child she never had, and revel in the role of motherhood for the first time. And Albus learned how to take a break from running the world and just enjoy life. It had really been a burden having to know everything. And little Albert was flourishing with loving guardians.

So little Albert's first birthday party (he was turning five, but the Dursleys had certainly never even acknowledged his birthday) was a quiet affair, with many gifts and four loving adults giving him hugs and praise. When Minerva brought out his cake, however, the joy turned into mayhem. Astounded that such a yummy looking treat, (complete with magical singing candles), was for _him_, of all people, the excited child did the only thing he could do. He summoned the cake to himself with accidental magic.

'Fhoosh! SPLAT!' A confused and frightened five year old sat, covered with cake from head to toe, terrified of being punished. Four stunned adults stood and gaped, not saying a word.

"Err, Albus?" Harry asked hesitantly, breaking the silence. "Is that normal?"

Ginny busted out laughing, breaking the shocked quiet of the room. Minerva swiftly scrougified and comforted the young boy, and Albus chuckled out loud. "No, Harry – to do such controlled magic like that isn't. This is one powerful wizard!"

And so the moment passed without traumatizing the boy. Everyone ended up laughing and the elves brought out another cake. Albert was at first terrified he would be punished for his 'unnatural behavior', which made the adults understand that obviously this child had done 'accidental' magic before.

Albus, sitting quietly with Harry after the party, was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair as he gazed out the window. "Perhaps we should consider binding the child's magic? He has amazing control and power for a mere babe. I'd hate for him to do something that could cause him injury."

Harry felt his face flush with fury. He jumped to his feet and shouted "don't you dare! Do you know what that did to me? Do you understand what it does to a wizard?" His fists were clenched, breathing ragged. Ginny, hearing the shouting, came running into the room, but stood back to get an understanding of the situation.

The headmaster's mouth dropped open. "Harry my boy – please settle your self! It was merely a suggestion!" He held up wandless placating hands. "I will not do it unless the four of us agree – you can check Albert's core yourself!"

The Boy-Who-Lived abruptly stormed out of the room to grab a broom. Leaping into the sky, he rocketed up, and proceeded to do spins and stunts that would have turned Minerva's hair gray, if it hadn't been already. The elderly witch was watching through the doorway with Ginny as Albus played with Albert.

"What was that about, Ginny?" Minerva asked quizzically as she continued to watch the amazing flying ability Harry portrayed.

The redhead gave a sad sigh and sat on the stoop of the doorway. She looked up with a wry smile. "You can tell he's really upset – he forgot he can just turn eagle and fly without the broom. Harry's Dumbledore bound his core as a child, and again at Hogwarts without telling him. He wanted him to be weak so he would be killed by Voldemort." Ginny plucked a leaf off a bush next to her and slowly shredded it. "He says he was quite the awful student unless in a dangerous situation."

"That's terrible!" Minerva gasped. She conjured a chair and sat next to the girl, shaking her head sadly. "Albus made many mistakes with Harry, but he would never do that to Albert. Harry's Albus sounds simply dreadful."

Ginny gave the witch a sincere smile. "I know that. And Harry does too. But he will be fighting his bad childhood for many, many years. He might never completely win." She glanced up at her husband again, love showing on her face. "He has come a long way – this world is good for him."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dudley Dursley turned five today, the worker noticed when annotating his file. The workers always tried to make birthdays special for their charges – bringing in a cake and small gifts. She shrugged apathetically. She had spent more on bandages and aspirin from dealing with the brat than she had ever spent on one of the children's gifts. He didn't know it was his birthday – he certainly wasn't bright enough. She wasn't going to bring it up.

Looking over the common room, she automatically searched for the fat child who was normally causing problems. In the year and a half he had been here, the job had become almost unbearable. The nurse who would come and examine and treat the kids was the only other employee who was still here since Dursley came. The others came and went in record time, unable to deal with the stress of dealing with the possessed monster. Orphans came and went too – most babies were adopted quickly, and most children found homes within a couple of years. But the orphanage quickly learned if parents showed up to look at kids, they had to bribe Dudley into the back garden with many, many sweets to keep him quiet and hidden, or the good kids wouldn't stand a chance at getting a home.

Between the new food and his hysterical temper tantrums, Dudley had lost some weight at first. But he was presently as fat as ever, if not fatter. If other children had treats or extra food, he would go to any lengths to take it. And there wasn't a day someone didn't have to chase him out of the pantry. Somehow the beast always found a way into the food pantry, no matter how many locks they put on it.

A couple of girls were playing with well-worn but much-loved dolls. Four boys in the corner were playing a board game. More children were watching the telly. All of them would give fearful glances at Dudley fairly frequently. The worker shook her head sadly. It was a grim day indeed when that boy came to live at the orphanage. The child was hateful, and quite the puzzle. Typically the older children would not tolerate someone like Dursley and keep him in line, but even they were afraid of the five-year old terror.

The room broke out in laughter as the children watching the telly squealed in delight at whatever cartoon they were watching. Dudley narrowed his piggish eyes and sneakily glanced at the worker on duty. Good – she was watching the show too. He laboriously got to his feet and waddled out the side door – to the pantry.

Dudley tried the door knob – naturally it was locked. Silly people – why did they keep trying? If they had any brains, they would simply hand him all the sweets he wanted. He was going to have them anyway. Grasping the door knob with two pudgy hands he screwed his face up in concentration. _'Open – open NOW!'_ he thought. The knob glowed and clicked – the door was unlocked.

Still the door didn't open. Glaring, he looked up and noticed a new addition to the door – a padlock far above his head. With a look of hatred he pointed at the offending hasp and concentrated again. With a snap and a 'pop' the padlock fell to the floor, narrowly missing his head. Grinning with satisfaction he pushed the door open and looked around. The lollies were out of his reach, and he had learned the hard way he couldn't climb the shelves. But it didn't matter – not to the great Duddums Dursley. Pointing to the candy jar on the top shelf, it glowed, then slowly floated through the air to his awaiting hands.

Sitting on the floor with a porcine grunt of contentment he snatched off the lid and started peeling wrappers, cramming sweets into his waiting, drooling mouth. Silly workers – did they really think they could stop him?

"Dudley! What do you think you are doing?" The nosey worker had found him, but not before he had managed to cram all of the lollies in his greedy mouth. Sticky drool was running down his chins, and gummy sticks were hanging out of his bulging cheeks.

She gave him a frustrated push and took the empty jar from his hands. "I could _swear_ I locked this door!" she sputtered, looking around helplessly. "Come on – let's get you cleaned up." She gave him a not-so-gentle shove out of the small room, and he got up to comply. Some days he would make them call for help and drag him out – one alone couldn't move him. Today he felt generous – he had gotten what he wanted.

And Dudley always gets what he wants.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was a quiet summer night, with the full moon softly shining down as Albus and Minerva exchanged their vows. "I've finally made an honest woman out of you, my dear," the mugwhump beamed as he kissed the back of her hand.

Six year old Albert was tossing magical confetti that exploded into small pops and crackles of light, grinning ear to ear. Harry had his arm draped over his wife's shoulders, and Ginny was dabbing tears from her eyes. "Its times like this I miss my mum" she sniffed nostalgically. Weddings brought out the softy in her.

She reached down and scooped up Albert, who was now getting sleepy. Planting a gentle kiss on his head, she carried him into the manor. It had been a long but wonderful year. Albert was now six, and had come out of his shell. Though still a naturally shy child, he was bright and eager to start school in the fall. They had kept him home a year to help him get over his flinching and booster his self-confidence. Now he would be attending a magical grade school with the other witches and wizards his age.

It hadn't been all fun and games. As Ginny tucked the drowsy child in she recalled the real humdinger of a fight she and Harry had. It started innocently enough – Harry told her he was going to tell Albert about Voldemort and his destiny, and Ginny stopped him, telling him the child was too young for such a burden. If anything could punch her husband's buttons, it was keeping information from him, or his younger self. She winced, remembering the anger and stubbornness they both displayed.

The fight had dragged out for several weeks. Several long agonizing weeks of crying on Minerva's shoulder, Harry complaining to Albus, and the couple not speaking to each other. At least Harry promised not to say anything to Albert until it was agreed on by all parties. And slowly the young couple's resolve softened and melted, and they were able to speak civilly again. A compromise was reached (with the help of the older couple), and the four of them sat the young child down one evening and told him that he had a destiny that they would tell him about when he was old enough. And they left it at that.

When Harry and Ginny made up, Albus and Minerva took a couple months off to start looking for Voldemort. Her husband had recalled that Riddle spent many years inhabiting snakes and animals while searching for a willing human host, and that Quirrell had found him in Albania. They searched the forests and fields, magically searching for creatures with human souls without luck. But during that time they became a couple, and came home to marry.

Ginny turned off the lights in Albert's room – he was fast sleep already. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonnagal – Mr. and Mrs. Dumbledore. She smiled with delight. In a few weeks Albert would be starting his new life as a student, and Harry would be starting intense lessons on accessing his core and seeing magic. But for now it was time to sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Six year old Dudley Dursley was sitting in the back garden of the orphanage. Cramming fistfuls of chocolates into his bulging cheeks, he squinted his tiny eyes at the door and glared. He knew what they were doing. They were hiding him again – visitors were coming to look for a kid to adopt.

Licking the last of the candy off his pudgy hands, he frowned, making an ugly face. Maybe he should unlock the door and look at the people – he really wanted to get out of here. But the minders were clear in their message to him – both verbal and unspoken. No one would want him – he was fat, ugly, mean, and creepy.

With a frustrated sigh he flopped against the brick fence and stared into space. He pounded the back of his head against the brick a couple times to see if it would bring one of the minders, but nobody was watching out the window. Too bad – he could cause them to break out in a painful rash if he concentrated hard enough.

It just wasn't fair. He still remembered his mummy and daddy. They loved him. They had understood how special he was, and told him how perfect he was everyday. They never complained that he ate too much or accused him of picking on anyone. The other kids were such babies.

Anything that ever went wrong in his old home, before he came to the orphanage, was the freak's fault. He remembered that too. The freak – some ugly skinny little kid that used to sleep under the stairs. Why would anyone want to sleep in a cupboard when they had such a grand house? He recalled how his daddy used to laugh and give him candy when he would pinch the freak hard.

A bit of movement caught his eye. A snake was crawling through a gap between the brick and gate sections of the fence. Dudley picked up a rock and considered throwing it at the creature – it _was_ fun to see things die. But then he would be alone for who knows how long. And his aim was pretty pathetic. Perhaps he could think it dead?

"_So sssshould I kill you or not, you sssstupid ssssnake?" _he hissed at the serpent, which stop dead in its tracks and flicked its long, forked tongue at him.

"_Why would you want to kill me, young masssster?"_ the snake replied. _"What would it gain you?"_

Dudley's mouth dropped open. The snake talked! Perhaps it wasn't so dumb after all. _"How did you learn to talk Englisssssh?"_ he demanded.

"_I do not sssspeak human, young masssster," _the snake answered in a flattering tone._ "You are gifted with the language of ssssnakes. Tell me, have you ever made thingssss happen? Thingssss that no one elsssse can?"_

"_All the time," _Dudley snickered cruelly_. "They all hate me. I'm too perfect – my Mummy used to tell me ssssso."_

The snake came closer, but kept a safe distance. It examined him critically with unblinking eyes, making Dudley feel more and more uncomfortable. _"You are a powerful wizard, young massssster. Would you like to learn more magic?"_

"_Magic?"_ Dudley replied indignantly. _"There'ssss no ssssuch thing as magic. Daddy ussssed to tell me that all the time."_

"_Then how do you make thingsssss happen? The thingsssss that make you ssssso perfect?" _The snake came a bit closer again, and cocked his tiny head to the side, looking rather cute. For a snake.

The child squinted his piggish eyes narrowly, trying to wrap his barely used brain around what the snake just said.

"_Your Mummy and Daddy were correct. You are perfect. Too perfect to be here with thesssse idiotssss that don't appreciate you." _The serpent gestured to the house with his head. _"Why did your Mummy and Daddy leave you in an orphanage?"_

Dudley glared and hefted the rock again. _"Billy said they went to jail. But I don't believe him. He hates me 'caussse I'm perfect. And I gave him boilssss."_

The snake nodded sympathetically. _"Anyone who raisssssed a fine boy like you couldn't possibly be in jail. Perhaps they are buying truckloadssss of candy to bring back to their perfect sssson."_

The boy grinned, envisioning that much candy. He looked back to the snake, thinking how it was nice to speak with someone who understood he was special. Not a beast or a brat.

"_May I sssstay with you, young masssster?" _the snake inched closer. _"I could sssstay hidden in your sssshirt pocket – I'm not very big. And I can teach you more powerssss. You can be even sssstronger and sssssmarter. I could be your ssssssecret friend."_

More powers? He could really teach that Billy a thing or two. And he had a wicked idea what to do with snobby sobby Mary's stupid doll. _"Ok, sssssnake. What do I call you?"_

The snake slithered up to Dudley's outstretched hand and crawled up his arm, making the boy giggle. _"Tom", _he replied_. "You may call me Tom, young massssssster."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Author Notes: Reader's thoughts are pretty even in count – some want me to wind down now, some want me to continue. After this world is over I'll spend a bit to time figuring out where I'm going to go with this. No promises, and no spoilers to let you know what is coming. _

_Also, I'm sure my take on an orphanage is far from accurate. I don't feel like researching, so it's just alternate universe – ok?_


	38. The Black Sheep of the Family

_For the record – I'm not Rowling, I don't own Harry Potter, etc. I'm not making money at this. And parseltongue is in italics._

**Chapter 38 – The Black Sheep of the Family**

Harry stood on the dock facing the distant island of Azkaban. His hand, grasping his wife's in sweaty nervousness, was trembling slightly. Albus had fought the Wizengamot and Minister of Magic for three years now, and finally got the authority to give Sirius Black a true and fair trial.

"It will be all right, hon" Ginny whispered to Harry. She shivered, despite wanting to put up a strong front for her husband's sake. The chill of the dementors reached out for miles – even to where they were standing.

The Boy-Who-Lived nodded. Padfoot had been in Azkaban only seven years – five less than 'his' Sirius, so the damage should not be as severe. But Harry was a person who was used to things going wrong, and couldn't help but feel fear and dread – and not just because of the effect of the dementors.

"Why did it take so long, Gin?" he growled in frustration. "Three whole years? If Tipton was in the attic I would have done it my way, no matter what Albus and Minerva said."

She shook her head in partial agreement. Friendly aurors stood with the couple, giving them some space for privacy. The Potters (in disguise and unknown), were here by the express permission of the Head of the Wizengamot, so they were given all due courtesy. Ginny glanced at them with a sigh. "You know I agree with Albus on this." Dropping her voice to a low whisper, she continued. "Albus went though great pains to adopt Albert legally with no loose ends. Let's do this the legal way too."

"The boat is coming, sir, madam," a young auror interrupted, pointing out to sea. Harry and Ginny craned their necks, shading eager eyes with their hands. A few long, torturous minutes later and the small vessel reached their shore. The young wizard's face turned pale as he looked frantically for his godfather. Two disheveled and grim looking aurors were standing, looking disgusted and guilty in turns.

"Where is he?" Ginny and Harry asked in unison, standing on tiptoes. Their faces echoed matching expressions of fear and dread.

There, in the bottom of the boat lay a pile of rags barely covering a human shape. One of the aurors poked it with his toe and shrugged. "Sirius Black here – don't know why you want 'im though." The pile giggled insanely and rolled over. Drool ran down the filthy face, and eyes were glazed with madness. Harry and Ginny gaped in shock. There was no doubt – this Padfoot had not survived the dementor's ravages.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Back at the orphanage, the changes in Dudley were slow at first. He grew sneakier, smarter, and nastier. The children in the orphanage used to avoid him because he was a bully, violent, and not very fun to play with. Now they kept away from him because of the fear he invoked. Strange things would happen to kids that didn't let him have his way, or upset him in the slightest.

The minders at first didn't believe the children. They thought their accusations were exaggerating, saying anything they could in an attempt to put the beast in his place. But they weren't so sure themselves now. Anyone who crossed the Dursley boy would end up with painful boils, slipping and hurting themselves, or finding treasured possessions destroyed. And the sneaky, satisfied smile the boy would give – it was just plain evil.

It was late spring, and Dudley was seven years old. School, for the first time in his life, was boring, and not because he didn't want to do it. Tom stayed in his shirt pocket and whispered the answers, and explained his lessons to him. He showed the boy that learning could be pretty interesting at times. So his second year of grade school was too easy for the lad, having a private tutor like he did.

It was after school, and Dudley was in his favorite hiding place – under a large bush in the back garden, far away from the other children and nosey adults. Few ever overheard his hissing conversations with his secret pet – when they did, they would chalk it up to the boy being crazy. _"Sssso, Tom" _he whispered to his snake_, "how'd you like me making that ssssstupid girl break out in zits like that?"_

"_Ssssubtle_," the snake nodded with approval_. "Making Billy trip last week was too obvioussss. You don't want people to undersssstand how sssspecial you are, Dudley."_

"_I ssstill missss mummy and daddy,"_ the boy hissed in an abrupt change of topic. _"Thingsss are better with you here, Tom. But I hate having to work for my ssssweetssss. And why ssshould I have to forcccce these morons to sssee how much better I am than they? Mummy and daddy undersssstood."_

Tom gave an inward sigh. Stroking this young, spoiled brat's ego was tiresome at best, but until the child was willing to share his body, he was stuck convincing the odious boy he was his best friend. Thankfully Dudley didn't wait for an answer, but rolled onto his pudgy back and gazed at the blue sky through the branches of the bush. _"My life was ruined becausssse of that sssstupid freak. Mummy and daddy were right – he just wanted to dessstroy our home."_

"_You have mentioned him before, massster," _the snake groveled verbally. _"Wasss he your brother? Why do you call him a freak?"_

"_Brother?" _Dudley burst out in nasty laughter. _"Naw. Potter wassss my cousssssin. Dunno why he was a freak – he was ssssscrawny, wimpy – just freaky. Mummy and daddy called him that. He didn't even know his real name I think! I overheard mummy ssssay that was hissss name to the doctor once."_

"_Potter?!!" _The snake swung his head around and stared hard at Dudley – not that the boy noticed it. _"What did thisssss boy look like?"_

The child gave a disinterested shrug, while absentmindedly shredding a leaf. _"Not handssssome like me. Sssskinny, dark messssy hair, sssstupid green eyessss. He had this really ugly sssscar on his head."_

Tom wanted to bite the moron of a boy he stayed with, but calmed his temper with effort. _"Why did your coussssin live with you? Did your parentssss want him there? He ssssoundsss like he ruined everything."_

"_Hisss parentssss died drunk driving mummy told him. Nobody wanted a freak, sssssso the policcce left him on our doorssstep, caussse they didn't want to bother good people like ussss with ringing the doorbell." _Dudley gave his snake a dirty look. "_I don't want to talk about the Freak anymore. Becaussse of him they took my mummy and daddy away! The policcce ssssaid ssssomething about 'abusssse' and trying to murder. Jussst becausssse they hit him a few timessss."_

The small serpent was quiet as he pondered what Dudley just told him. So Harry Potter survived his killing curse, and somehow reflected it back to his own self. Obviously one of Dursley's parents was the sibling to Lily Potter – probably a squib. Where did Harry Potter end up? He turned his attention back to the obese brat who was pouting and frowning. _"It sssounds like the Freak did ruin your life, Dudley. I think we sssshould get revenge, don't you?"_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sirius Black had barely enough sanity left for St. Mungos to extract pensieve memories of the fateful night of October 31st. Although the ex-prisoner was not fit to stand trial, the memories were enough to pardon the man and put the warrant out for Pettigrew. The Wizengamot decided the Ministry would pay for his care in St. Mungo's mentally disabled clinic.

So Albert's godfather was free, but it wasn't much of a victory. Harry visited twice, but the guilt he suffered after each session was just too costly. Ginny held him, cried with him and listened to him, but mostly she ached for Harry. Marriage has its seasons, and this was a time of serving her husband as a crutch. She held him up as is heart tried to crumble.

"I don't get it, Gin," Harry sighed one morning as they sat to a quiet breakfast. "Why do I feel this so deeply? I know my Sirius is fine back with Harold. I understand this wasn't my fault. I've dealt with the outright death of several Sirius' now, including my own – as far as I understood at the time. Why can't I get over this?"

The red-haired woman watched her husband's face with gentle fondness. It had been several months since that fateful trip to Azkaban's shores, and the healing was slow – but it was happening. "Harry – you love little Albert. You wanted him to enjoy his Godfather as much as you enjoyed yours – or wanted to." A slow sympathetic tear made its way down her cheek, and he reached out to wipe it away with a weak but grateful smile. "Hold little Albert all the closer, but perhaps it is time to move on, my love."

Green eyes blazed with understanding and acceptance. He couldn't save everyone. He couldn't always prevent the death or destruction of every world's Sirius Black. But he could protect the young charge in his care for this moment, he could learn more from this Albus Dumbledore, and he rejoiced in the realization he had the perfect soul-mate for a wife. His kiss would have to express what he was feeling – words were not adequate.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Now, Albert and Harry, my boys," Albus directed, with fondness in his voice, "look into my eyes, relax and trust me."

The young wizards took a deep breath in unison. Trust did not come naturally to Harry. But he needed to break down the barriers imposed by his harsh upbringing for his training, and for his relationship with his wife. Albert, to Harry's grateful surprise, barely remembered the Dursleys already. Trust came easily to the lad. Two pair of green eyes penetrated into sparkling blue.

It was like falling into a well – down, down, deeply down. Harry and Albert found themselves sitting on a surface – floor? Albus was sitting next to them. Where ever they were, it was pitch black – the only light came from the three wizards – a soft, yellow glow.

"We are sharing thoughts in my mind" the headmaster smiled warmly as the young wizards looked around. "This will make it much easier to see what I am going to teach you. I am going to perform a wandless luminos – watch what happens to my magic."

Harry watched in amazement. When the spell was cast he could see ribbons of light, starting at Albus' chest and weaving their way down his arm. They danced, and raced and interwove in beautiful patterns, until they finally rested in the palm of the man's wrinkled hand, glowing in a lovely globe of soft-white light. Albus looked up and smiled broadly at the boy.

"Why did it take so long? And do you see that every time you perform a spell?" Harry blinked a few times, then scrutinized the chest area of his teacher.

"I think it's pretty!" Albert crowed, staring at his own lightless hand expectantly.

Albus chuckled with joy at Harry's interest and Albert's enthusiasm. "I slowed time down for you so you could see what was happening. And no – I do not see magic all the time – it is something you must be in a meditative state to see. Relax, clear your mind, and then look at my torso. Call for my magic – you should be able to see it now that you know what to look for."

"Whoa – can you see it, Uncle Harry?" Albert marveled, looking inward at his own chest. Colored ribbons of magic slowly danced in a graceful ballet, never stopping, but spiraling and interweaving.

"Yes, Albert," Harry answered, his telepathic voice tinged with awe. "I wonder if ours are identical?" He gazed at his own chest with curiosity.

Albert knew that 'Uncle Harry' was in fact, himself, though it didn't make a whole lot of sense. The young boy scrunched his closed eyes in concentration, examining Harry too.

The Boy-Who-Lived found himself gawking at all three of their cores, one at a time. His own was lovely, sparkling and glowing golds with flashes of every color in the rainbow. Albert's colors were identical to his own, but the number of branching off ribbons and the complication of the weave was far more simple than his. The last, Albus', was primarily royal purple, with lavender and gold high lights. It was tightly wound with feathery tendrils coming off, and the movements again showed control and precision.

"I think you boys can try it yourselves" Albus' eyes twinkled even in the created world of their minds. "watch your cores and try to duplicate what mine did."

Frowning, tongue poked out with concentration, Albert pushed the tendrils of golden magic down his arm slowly. It took awhile, but he was eventually rewarded with a ball of light sitting in his hand. He looked up grinning widely to see his 'uncle' had accomplished it too at the same time.

Harry returned the grin and looked quizzically at Albus. "So we can theoretically do any magic by simply watching our core when we perform a spell with a wand, and then duplicate the pattern of the magic?"

"That's right!" the ancient beamed at them. "Personally, I use a wand simply for show, or if I know I'm going to battle. Your wand makes the focusing easier, and drains less of your magic. If you need to do magic for long periods of time, such as fighting, use the wand. And keep your wand on you at all times, no matter what your level of wandless talent, so your enemies don't know your ability."

Albert grinned mischievously. "All right! No more fear of underage magic violations – no wand, no tracking!"

Albus and Harry opened their mouths in unison, ready to launch into join lectures about the hazards of youths getting into trouble with magic unsupervised. But looking at the huge teasing smile on their charges' face silenced their concerns, and they returned the grin with mirth.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"_I tell you, Dudley_," the snake whispered with a silky, soothing manner, _"there is a whole world full of ssssspecial people like yourssssself I can take you to. A world where everyone is sssssspecial like you. With my help, you can be the ssssstrongessssst of all. I can make you powerful."_

The fat boy was reclining under the bush in the back garden, absentmindedly shoveling a box of cookies he had stolen from a kid's locker at school down his throat. Chewing with his mouth open, spitting crumbs everywhere, he squinted his beady eyes at his pet in disbelief. Ever since telling Tom about his childhood, what he could remember of it at least, the snake had been rather bossy and pushy.

"_Here nobody is ssssspecial but me_" Dudley pointed out. "_I can be in charge and make everyone do what I want. Why ssssshould I go live with a ton of freaksssss?"_

Tom kept himself from rolling his eyes with super-human effort. "_Although it issss good to be a big fisssssh in a sssssmall pond, it is even better to be a big fissssh in a bigger pond_," he replied, congratulating himself on such a witty comparison.

"_Why would I want to be a fisssssh?"_ Dudley gaped at him stupidly, pasty remains of cookie clearly viewable on his tongue. "_I though you sssssaid I was a wizard!"_

"_Ssssshut up and lisssssten to me!"_ Tom snapped impatiently. "_You are a wizard. You can be the bessssst wizard in the world!"_

Dudley Dursley was never the kind of child to take kindly to orders. He took Tom out of his shirt pocket and threw him across the yard in fury. _"I'm ssssick of your bosssssinessss, Tom. Go away. I don't need you to be the besssst – here I AM the bessst." _He folded his arms across his chest and turned his back, not bothering to see if his pet was injured.

Tom narrowed his eyes in fury at the brat, who was ignoring him. How _dare_ he dismiss him – the most powerful wizard that ever lived? Why, oh why had fate led him here – to this spoiled terror of a mix blood? If only he could find another wizard to use. But the Dursley brat was all he had, so he had to make it work.

"_I'm sssssorry, masssster_," he groveled, coming closer to the bush, but staying well out of reach. "_I wassss wrong to sssspeak thussssly to you_." By the stiffening of Dudley's back Tom could tell he was listening, so he continued. _"Don't you want to make the freak pay for what he did to you? Don't you want to find your parentssss? If you trussst me we can do both. In the magical world I know a houssssse that is empty – you can have it for your very own."_

Dudley turned and looked at him, listening intently now. "_In this housssse you will be king. I know where a magic wand issssss hidden – it will make you even more powerful, even sssstronger,_" Tom continued seductively. "_When I wasss there, I ssssaw a room with pilessss of gold in it. You could buy much candy with all that money. Your Mummy and Daddy will be sssso proud when we find them."_

"_I guesssss that ssssounds all right_," Dudley agreed reluctantly, drooling at the thought of all the candy in his future. He glared at Tom, shaking his fat fist at the snake. "_But I'm in charge. I'm the sssmart one. I'm the sssstrong one. You need me. I will NOT be told what to do by a sssstupid ssssanke."_

"_Yesssss, masssster_," the reptile nodded subserviently. "_You are the bossssss_." If snakes could smile, Dudley would have been scared. But the young Dursley was anything but bright, and he was easily fooled into thinking he had put his pet in its place. If reptiles' faces could show emotions, the boy would have run for his life and not looked back.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Zippy walked into the masculine den of Potter Manor and stood, shocked and speechless, at the display before him. Harry was slumped limply in an overstuffed chair, as he threw a butterbeer bottle against the far wall, and watched it smash. Then he casually gestured with silent, wandless magic and repair the bottle, summoned it to his hand, and repeated the process again. And again.

The elf frowned looking at the collection of empty bottles. Although butterbeer was much like the muggle root beer – not a beer and not alcoholic to wizards in the least – it was very intoxicating to house elves. And ever since Harry spent time as an elf, butterbeer was quite intoxicating to him. "Is there a problem, Harry?" he asked cautiously.

"Nope. Everything is hunkey-dorey" the Boy-Who-Lived slurred with a giggle. SMASH! The bottle broke yet again against the far wall. "Peachy-keen. Fine as frog's hair. Couldn't be better."

With a snap of the fingers Zippy vanished all the bottles – broken and whole. Another hand motion and the elf summoned a sobering potion, which he thrust at Harry in a no-nonsense manner. The young man shrugged, accepted it and downed it in one gulp. Tapping his foot impatiently, he watched Harry stiffen and regain his control as it took effect. "Ready to tell me what is wrong now, Harry?" Zippy asked in a 'take no prisoners' tone of voice.

"Sorry about that," Harry muttered sheepishly, running his fingers through his hair. With a snap of his fingers the wizard summoned tea and biscuits from the kitchen with his elf magic skills, and slumped back in the chair, eyeing his friend over with a lost expression. "I guess I was throwing a pity party. I mean I've been traveling for _years_ now, and what have I accomplished? Am I really any closer to destroying my Voldemort?"

The elf looked at him dumbfounded. "What have you accomplished?" he sputtered. "Ok, Harry – we will spell it out for you." Ticking off on his fingers, Zippy started the list.

"Before leaving your world, you found out Dumbledore was an enemy, you unblocked your magical core, and you made your wand untraceable." Harry shrugged non-commitally – he didn't feel like he personally did any of those things. Those were honestly Snape's accomplishments, not his own.

"In Harold's world," the elf continued, shooting him a frown, "you learned about Potter Manor, learned how to do silent casting of your spells, perfected your occlumency, and perfected your potions skill. May I also remind you about becoming an animagus, finding the Bond Terminator potion, and learning about the Innocents."

Zippy had Harry's attention at this point at least. The wizard was sitting up straighter and listening, desperately looking for a reason to feel progress.

"In HJ's world you found Uncle Archie" the elf gestured over the fireplace where they had hung the portrait since the trunk wasn't being used for the time being. "Archibald Potter gives you a sense of consistency and is a good moral compass for your hectic life." Harry nodded in agreement, giving the man in the painting a smile of gratitude.

"The Four Harrys of Hogwarts taught you group dynamics, psychological warfare, and interaction with ghosts." With a smile Zippy added "you also perfected your pranking, which always can come in handy."

Harry grinned at that. It had been fun relentlessly haunting the whole school and driving the headmaster to insanity.

"In that strange world based on your cousin's game you learned how important supportive friends are, how every one needs a vacation from reality at times, and even a bit of warlock skills – not that you'd ever need them." Zippy watched the wizard's face as Harry realized the truths the elf was giving him. Thankfully he was getting through to the stubborn boy.

"You have learned house-elf magic, a bit about parenting with Rose and Albert, learned about house wards, and the importance of family in the past few worlds" Zippy continued. "You have found and married your soul-mate, and learned about Japanese culture."

"Very little," Harry groaned, remembering Masahiko. "I don't know how useful a tea ceremony is when it comes to taking down a dark lord."

"And last but certainly not least," the elf continued, ignoring the jab at the unfortunate Masahiko, "you have perfected wandless magic and can now see and interpret auras. You have saved many alternate magical Britons. You have grown and matured. Do not underestimate what you have accomplished."

Harry looked at Zippy helplessly. "But it's taking so long! Will there even _be_ a magical Britain when I get back?"

The elf smiled gently and patted his hand. "Hang in there, Harry. Time travels differently here and there. You've been gone less than a year. And although you've been years in this world, and that world, and another, you and Ginny have not aged – you will return to your universe the proper age." He poured him another cup of tea and handed it to him. "You've grown close to this Albus Dumbledore – enjoy the time you have with him and Albert – it will soon be time to move on."

The Boy-Who-Lived looked into the swirling heat of the tea in his cup. Where was Voldemort in this reality? They were getting harder to defeat – what difficulties would this one bring?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dudley Dursley glared at the nurse's smoldering corpse that sprawled on the floor in front of him. His fists were clenched, and his heart filled with evil elation. "You stupid grown up," he crowed triumphantly, without a hint of remorse. "You thought you could tell me, the great Dudley Dursley, what to do. Always 'no more candy Mr. Dursley' and 'try and be nice for once Mr. Dursley'. I showed you!"

"_Good sssspell work, masssster_," Tom hissed approvingly from his pocket. "_We need to go now – one of the workerssss could come downsssstairs at any moment. Come – out the front door and we will go conquer the magical world, like I promissssed."_

The boy poked the nurses body with his foot and gave a sickening grin. True, she had been the one grown up that had stayed the whole time he lived at the orphanage. And she was the only one of the workers that attempted to be nice to him. But it didn't matter – he was absolutely finished with people trying to tell him what to do. No more nurses, or orphanages, or teachers or schools for the great Dudley Dursley. There was a world out there for him to take over. A whole new world that needed to see how perfect he was.

With one last glance at his first victim he stepped disrespectfully over the body and opened the front door. The sun light glared unforgiving into his blue eyes that watered with the discomfort. He squinted and left the door open, not caring who could come by and see his handiwork. Soon he would be gone to the 'muggles', as Tom called them, forever.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Author Notes: Please forgive the delay – my husband had surgery and is recovering nicely. I've really struggled with this chapter – I don't think it's the best at all. Somehow Albert just isn't 'real' enough, but I know folks are getting impatient. _


End file.
